


And We Fight for Roses Too

by WriteMeToHell



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Badass Sarah Jacobs (Newsies), Canon Jewish Character, Child Abuse, Child Labor, Class Differences, Class Issues, F/F, Female Jewish Character, Gen, Grief/Mourning, It's the big lesbian AU you've always wanted, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), Labor Unions, New and Improved for Pride Month!, Past Character Death, Protests, Sexual Harassment, newsbians, you just didn't know it yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:13:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMeToHell/pseuds/WriteMeToHell
Summary: For Katherine, the plan was simple: Go undercover at one of Manhattan's many illegal sweatshops and write the expose that'll finally kick start her career as a serious journalist.The one thing she could've never planned for was a certain factory worker by the name of Sarah Jacobs.





	1. Chapter 1

“Good Lord Kath, Did you see today’s headline?”

Bryan Denton slammed the morning edition of New York World down onto the desk of Katherine (Pulitzer, but who’s asking) Plumber. She looked up from her typewriter and glared.

“Denton, put that thing away! Dana will burst into flames if he sees that rag!” She did her best to keep her tone hushed. The main office of The New York Sun was abuzz with the clacking of typewriter keys and the general lull of conversation, but Katherine wasn’t in the mood to any take risks. She was already on thin ice for this job as it was.

“But did you see this headline?” Denton thrust the paper further so it landed on Katherine's lap. She bent over in her seat, trying to decipher the front page from her knee.

“Trolley Workers Begin Strike for Fairer Wages…”

“No no no, the one under that, left corner.” Katherine squinted at the fuzzy ink letters.

“The American Dream: The Positive Effects of Work Experience for Immigrant Children and their Communities. An editorial by…” Katherine shrank back into her seat with a groan.

“...J. Pulitzer. Why are you showing me this again Denton?”

“Because it’s ridiculous. The guy’s practically signing up to be the next Simon Legree with the way these editorials keep going.”

“The man isn’t a paperback villain, he’s just a capitalist.” Katherine hated to defend her father, but it was a bit of a low blow for Denton to be the one to rub the salt into her long standing wounds with her family. Especially considering he was one of the few people who knew she was really a Pulitzer. Katherine loved Denton’s enthusiasm and their shared anger at any and all injustice, but sometimes he could hit a raw nerve. Like a morning reminder of just how awful her newspaper mogol of a father was. Before she even had her first coffee, no less.

Katherine massaged the corners of her eyes, hoping if she looked bleary enough Denton would leave her alone until at least the mid afternoon.

“Listen Denton, I still need to finish up my write up for the Ladies’ Society Luncheon, do you think we could talk about this later? Maybe lunch? We’ll have plenty of time to complain about my god awful father without Dana breathing down our necks.”

As if on cue Katherine and Denton heard the echo of a slamming door coming from the end of the hallway. The tell-tale sound of Loake brand loafers clattering against the hardwood floors of The New York Sun building was punctuated with a second slam announcing the entrance of head editor Paul Dana into general writers’ quarters.

“Let’s shake a leg men, the evening edition needs to be set by three! Denton-” All eyes shot to Katherine’s desk.

“-You can flirt with the girl later. I need that piece on the new sanitation system stat!”

In the periphery of Katherine’s view she could see Denton’s ears go pink. A few chuckles came from the desks around them. Denton cleared his throat and straightened his bowtie.

“In a minute sir. I’ve got it all set to go.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it kid.” Dana was turning to leave when he paused again.

“Oh, and Plumber?”

Now it was Katherine’s turn to blush.

“Y-yes sir?”

“You should be pin your hair to the side the next time you curl it. It looks nicer that way.”

One final slam, and Katherine could feel her heart drop to her shins. Denton gave her a look of sympathy as she rested her head in the sling of her elbow. She didn’t bother looking up at him as she spoke.

“Wanna make that lunch early?”

He rested a hand on her shoulder. “How ‘bout 12:15, Jacoby’s? He’s got a discount on coffee today.”

Katherine straightened herself up again and began to reshuffle her notes.  “Great, we’ll both need it.”

* * *

“So, let me get this straight; your father lets his paper praise the trolley strikers on page one, but then says child sweatshops are the best thing since shredded wheat on page three? What kind of mental gymnastics does he go through to come to that conclusion?”

Denton paused to take a long slip from his mug. They were sitting at one of the smaller booths at Jacoby’s, a small Jewish run deli located near the distribution center of the New York World. Recently it has been enjoying a spurt of popularity among reporters from all major papers due to its cheap coffee, served along with a complimentary glass of water so that no one would get dehydrated.

At first, Katherine had not been thrilled by the place due to its proximity to her father’s workplace. Not too mention the free water policy had attracted a less scrupulous clientele, allowing any bum or newsie to lounge around the place, taking away seats from paying customers. But her need for cheap food and company eventually wore out any predispositions she had. Denton was the only reporter at The Sun willing to be her friend, and this was the only restaurant he could afford. Katherine needed to be sensitive towards that. Denton didn’t have a trust fund, or a mother willing to shill for the rent on an upper east side apartment when the headlines weren’t selling.

Instead, Denton was a farm boy from upstate who had ‘made good’; he had met their mutual friend Darcy while on scholarship at Harvard (Darcy, of course, was legacy). Katherine hadn’t known what to make of him when they were introduced. She even thought Darcy was trying to set them up, romantically speaking. Darcy, thankfully, quickly put that anxiety to rest.

“Oh Kath, no! It’s nothing like that at all! Listen, we-” He lowered his voice. “We met at a Oscar Wilde poetry reading, okay? Trust me, a man who enjoys Wilde that much is as likely to touch a woman as he is to read a Horatio Alger novel. You’ll get along just fine.”

And Darcy had been right. While it had been odd at first to spend time with someone whose family wasn’t one of Ward McAlister’s 400, Katherine had realized that now, as a working woman living a semi-independent lifestyle, she no longer fit in with that set either. She and Denton both had a passion for social causes and drank way too much coffee. Denton never once held the fact that she was a girl against her, and she in turn never thought less of  him for liking Oscar Wilde.

With the rest of her colleagues there was no such luck. At best they ignored her; at worst they talked behind her back. The latest rumor had been that Dana only hired her as a last ditch effort to make the paper appear more progressive. Openly supporting a truly radical issue like women’s suffrage was obviously out of the question for a paper as conservative as The Sun, but having a girl reporter on the team might hint at it enough to gain readership amongst a more centrist crowd. Thus she had been hired, taking another job away from a more deserving red blooded, Anglo Saxon man. That theory was a stretch even by Katherine’s standards.

The women in the building weren’t much better. It had been only a few weeks into her new job when she was found waiting the hallway for Dana’s final edits on her flower show piece by one of the lobby secretaries. The girl, looking only a few years older than herself, had paused as she walked by and stared directly into her eyes. Her expression was unreadable, her voice completely devoid of emotion.

“Bet I could’ve been a girl reporter if I went to a ritzy college.”

She left before Katherine could respond.

In the following weeks Katherine would play that interaction over and over again in her head. Every potential answer she came up with in her head was never good enough. How did you respond to something like that? The girl was obviously jealous. Why else would she had confronted her like that, without even taking the time to get to know her first? Katherine had been writing news stories since the moment she was taught the proper way to hold a pen. She was the one who graduated early from Barnard. She had gotten this job through her own merit, and no snotty typist was going to take that away from her. The men certainly weren’t asking themselves on the regular if they deserved to be here. Why should she?

“Plumber? Katherine?” Denton’s voice was bringing back to reality. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m fine Denton. Listen, about my father…”

Denton held up his hand in apology. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up. I know how testy it’s been between you two in the past couple of years.”

Testy. That was a diplomatic term for it. Katherine’s  relationship with her father had always been testy in one way or another. Her mother said it was because they were too much alike. Headstrong, almost to the point of arrogance, two go getters who didn’t believe in the word no. Great characteristics for a journalist, terrible for a family dynamic. Things had reached to a stalemate by the time Katherine had reached her teen years. First she was sent away to finishing school, then she left early to attend a two year program at Barnard. Her parents, who had been prepping her for an early marriage were not thrilled at the idea of their already headstrong daughter getting too academically ambitious. Or even worse, considering a career after college. Many arguments were had, many threats were made, and the sound of slamming doors in the Pulitzer household became second nature.

Then Lucille got sick. Katherine’s sister was only seventeen when she caught typhoid fever in the winter of ‘97. Lucy had always been the calm one, the steadfast rock in a volatile sea of angry Pulitzers. Her period of sickness was agonizingly long and and still too painfully short. There was just never enough time. Never enough time to be with her. Never enough time to say goodbye.

Lucy succumbed to her illness the day before New Years. And for a while the argueing stopped. Nothing seemed worth arguing over anymore.

Katherine shook the thought out of her head. She hated these unnecessary emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was to cry in front of a colleague. Even if it was Denton. She took a slip of coffee and got back to business.

“No, it’s not that. I just… I want to explain the child labor thing. His family lost most of their fortune when his father died. Coming to America, fighting in the war… he never talks about it, but it I know it was pretty traumatic for him.”

“And look where he is now.” Denton nudged his head towards the looming World office by the window.

Katherine nodded “Look where he is now. See, that’s why he’s so blasé about it. He doesn’t see the sweatshops as abuse, he sees it as character building.”

“But see, that’s where I’m confused. If he struggled so much as a kid, wouldn’t he want to help others? Kids that are going through the same struggles he had?”

Denton was too good for this world sometimes.

“Hardship doesn’t always come with empathy Bryan.”

Denton nodded sadly and dug into his brisket. Katherine cupped her cheek in the palm of her hand and looked over at Mister Jacoby serving a nearby table. She turned back to Denton and lowered her voice.

“Not to mention, my father has a lot more against him because of the whole J-E-W thing.”

“The J-E…? Oh, that’s right! I forget you’re Jewish!”

“Half Jewish.” Katherine was quick to correct. “It doesn't count if it’s patrilineal.” She shrugged, trying to appear as casual as possible. Growing up a Pulitzer, she and her siblings were well taught in the art of deflecting whenever their father’s heritage was brought up. “And anyways, my mother’s Episcopalian. We were raised Episcopalian. We’re not really Jewish, I mean...not _that_ kind of Jewish.” She looked back over at Mister Jacoby, who was chatting with one of his cooks in yiddish. She cringed inwardly.

“See, that’s another reason for my father to keep neutral on the whole labor business. The minute his paper gets too left leaning someone’s going to accuse him of controlling the presses, brainwashing the general public, that kind of thing.”

Denton raised an eyebrow. “You mean the kind of things Dana says about him?”

“That’s different! They’re rivals, of course he’s going to go for the low hanging fruit.”

“Uh huh.” Denton was staring deeply into his coffee. Katherine fought the urge to smack it aside.

“Hey! Don’t get self righteous with me, you work for him too!”

Deton held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right, I’m sorry Kath. I don’t like the way Dana talks about him either. That’s why I wanted to talk to you actually.” Denton finished his coffee in one final gulp and pushed aside his plate.

“You mean we didn’t come here just to rant about dear old dad?”

“Well, no... I mean, sort of. It’s just that, when I saw this-” He took his folded up copy of The World from the inside of his jacket and spread it out on the table. “-I knew this could be our big chance.”

Katherine leaned forward in her chair. “What are you talking about Denton?”

“Think about it; if The World keeps singing the praises of child labor again and again, it’s the perfect opportunity for The Sun to do a rebuttal. Set up a bunch of interviews, take pictures of the kids, let the people know what’s really going on in those sweatshops. With the two of us working on it, it could be front page news! We get a story like that out and I’ll never have to visit another public toilet again! You won’t even have to glance at a single flower show if you don’t want to! It’ll be our big break!”

Denton’s shoulders jolted up and down with his belated breath, his gestures growing more exuberant the longer he talked. He looked like an overgrown child at Christmas.

“It’ll be your big break, Denton.” Katherine sighed and half heartedly poked her danish with her fork. “Even if we split the work fifty-fifty, they’ll still probably credit me as your assistant, or your typist, or-”

“Oh Kath, it wouldn’t be like that at all. I promise, if your name isn’t mentioned on the top of the page, we’ll rescind the piece.”

“I know you can promise that, but Dana sure can’t. Not too mention how are we going to find a sweatshop that’s willing to let us in? Kids that’ll want to do interviews with us? We‘d look pretty suspicious just walking into factory, even if we made up a good excuse for it. Much less with a whole camera.”

“So, we’ll get an inside source. Someone who knows the kids and can get them to trust us.”

“Do you know anyone like that?”

“Well, I…”

“Because I don’t. I grew up on Park Avenue, Denton. You grew up on a farm. Have you ever been inside a factory?”

Denton squirmed in his seat. “Well, there was this old mill about three miles east of my house…”

Katherine sighed and looked down at her plate. “Listen, I love your enthusiasm, I really do. But the only possible we could do a story like this is if one of us were to...I don’t know, go undercover or….”

Katherine stopped in the middle of her thought. That was it.

She felt awake all of a sudden, like someone had finally turned on the lights in her head. Everything suddenly made sense to her now. A clear path lay ahead. Not an easy path, mind you, but clear one nevertheless. She could feel the gears in her head churning.

“Oh God.”

Denton was still looking morosely down at his paper.“What?”

“I know what our inside source is gonna be.”

“Who?”

For the first time that day, Katherine gave a genuine smile.

“Me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, yeah.
> 
> I started writing this story over a year ago, life happened, I had to abandon it, and when I got back to it, I realized I wasn't really happy with it at all. Not just because of the inaccuracies (of which there were MANY), but also because of the story's structure and plot. So this is the new and improved final (and I mean it!) version.
> 
> I'm still unsure of whether I'll delete the first version, but I have the complete three chapters on my Tumblr, so they'll always be a way to find it even if I end up deciding to clean ship on my AO3 account. To everyone who sent all those lovely messanges, from the bottom of my heart, thank so, so much. You have no idea how much your kind words mean to me. I geniunely hope you like this new version (and if not you can always stick to rereading the first one).
> 
> Happy Pride <3
> 
> tumblr: https://writemetohell.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "-------" indicate Yiddish, or any language Katherine can't understand (and definately has nothing to do with the fact that I suck at languages and translations). 
> 
> Enjoy this rewrite!

_What the hell was she doing here?_

The question had struck Katherine several times in the last two weeks as she and Denton prepared for this very moment. But now that she was actually here, at the front door of what must be the sleaziest looking glove factory this side of Lower Manhattan, it now echoed in her head louder than ever.

_What the hell was she doing here?_

Katherine Pulitzer was never afraid to be a trailblazer. Going to college when she was only fifteen was not in her parent’s plan for her. Neither was starting her own reporting career, completely devoid of any help from her father’s influence. But this? This was a different animal all together. This was definitely not her comfort zone. There was no safety net for her here, no sorority sisters to get her out of a bind or mother’s shoulder to weep on when things went wrong. With the exception of Denton, no one knew where she was.

For the first time in her life she was completely alone.

She stood frozen in place as groups of drowsy workers, all girls, meandered into the small courtyard and through the open doors. Most moved easily out of her way. It wasn’t until a good three minutes into Katherine’s staring contest she felt a shove to her shoulder.

“------------?”

Her perpetrator, a solid looking girl with thick curls stuck tightly on her head, spoke in a foreign tongue. Yiddish? It definitely sounded like Yiddish. Katherine did not expect this hurtle. The ad had been in English after all.

Katherine felt her stomach lurch into her throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak-”

The younger girl rolled her eyes before she could finish. “Hey new girl! You coming inside?”

“Um, actually, do you know where the foreman’s office is? I want to, um… speak to him…”

Katherine’s voice wavered the more she talked. This was going not the way she planned.

“You want to see Frank.” Her English voice had a slight lilt to it. Looking closer, she seemed young, maybe fifteen at most.

“I warn you though, I don’t know what kind of mood he’s in today.”

Before she could speak, Katherine was grabbed roughly by the wrist and pulled through the front doors. As the air grew heavy with dust and darkness fell over her vision, Katherine could feel her heart pounding in rapt speed through her chest.

_What the hell was she doing here?_

* * *

“Name?”

“Uh, Katie. Katie Siegel.”

Katie, because it would be easier to respond to a shortened version of her own name. Siegel, because it was a common enough surname in the area to not attract attention. Katie Siegel, like Katherine Pulitzer, was going to be a first generation American.

“Age?”

“Eighteen.”

No use in lying about that. Though it was startling to see just how many of the other workers were significantly younger than her.

Frank quickly jotted something down in a notebook with a broken binder. He was a lean man with a shaved head, wearing only a stained undershirt with suspenders. He held out a pen for Katherine to sign on the dotted line.

“You got your own apron? Scissors?”

Katherine gave a quick nod. Frank gave her a quick look up and down, rubbing his index finger on the overlap where his front teeth crossed. Katherine suddenly felt vulnerable in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

“You can start today. Full time work is eight to six, you get fifteen minutes to eat.The pay starts at three dollars a week. Shayna-”

The girl that had brought Katherine looked up in surprise.

“-bring Katie with you to table four. She can start at the empty spot there.”

"But that’s-” Shayna lowered her voice to a whisper. “-that’s Chava’s spot.”

Frank looked unimpressed. “And is Chava here?”

Shayna looked down at her feet. “No sir.”

“Then you better show Katie where her seat is at table four. Now.”

Shayna bit her lower lip as Frank swung back around in his chair. Eyes to the ground, she once again grabbed Katherine’s wrist and led her out of the office, quietly shutting the down behind them.

Katherine’s first test was complete.

She didn’t feel nearly as relieved as she should’ve been.

* * *

The interior of the factory seemed to be consuming itself. The walls, the floors, the ceiling; they were all pulled to the center by an invisible force, threatening to collapse in on itself at any time. The only natural light came from a small panel window stuck in the upper right corner in the room that looked like it hadn’t been washed for at least a decade. The rest was supplied by a few electric light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. It gave the place a grayish tone; everything from the workers faces the pitch-black paint jobs of the sewing machines looked muted and dull. A dozen or so tables were scattered throughout the room, each seating four to five sewing machines. Workers, all girls, aged anywhere from twenty-five to twelve huddled over their machines in tight groups, each table its own island. Everyone’s hair was pinned up and out of their faces. Katherine self consciously tugged at her own long curls.

Shayna had taken her over to a table settled off in a corner, left of the main doorway. Two girls were already settled in, completely enraptured in their work. She pointed to one of the unused chairs and Katherine cautiously took a seat. If she could attract as little attention to herself as possible, she might get through this day unscaved.

“That’s Chava’s spot.”

Nevermind.

The speaker was a petite girl wearing a pair of round spectacles. Her light brown hair was tied in two braids and pinned onto the top of her head. She appeared to be around twelve or thirteen. With the braids down, maybe even ten.

“Well, Frank says it's her spot now.” Shayna had taken her own seat at the other end of the table.

“And who’s ‘her’?” This time it was the other girl; lanky, with freckles and a shock of red hair twisted in a tight knot at the nape of her neck.

Katherine tried to grin. She desperately needed to make a good first impression. What did her finishing school teacher always say? An open face leads to an open heart? Katherine tried to broaden her smile as she leaned over the table, her arm extended for a handshake.

“I’m Katie!”

The redhead rolled her eyes.

“And I don’t care..”

Katherine felt her ears turn pink as she slunk back into her chair. It was almost a relief when the door slammed open, announcing Frank’s presence.

“Alright ladies, it’s Tuesday and we’re already twenty behind on the order. It’s due next week, that’s seven days, can you understand that? SE-VEN.” He stretched out the word till it no longer sounded like itself.

“You want to leave here while the sun’s still up? I better see some damn results. I’m gonna need you to be more like Hannah here-” At this he gestured to a young girl a few seats away. She ducked down her head in embarrassment. Katherine wondered how old she was. Twelve? Ten? They could practically run a primary school in here.

“-She’s gonna be our pace setter for the day. How many she gets done, you blind monkeys better break even.” He headed back into the office, letting the door swing violently behind him.

“And remember ladies, this ain’t a tea party. You talk too much, you’ll be looking for a new job by Friday.”

One final slam and he was gone.

* * *

Two weeks ago Katherine did not know how to make a glove.

Hell, two weeks ago she barely knew how to sew at all, unless you counted some truly abysmal embroidery from her finishing school days. And Katherine certainly didn’t. It was only thanks to Denton’s aunt, a window residing in the South Bronx, who taught her the ins and outs of sewing. This factory made a knockoff brand of the current popular style of women’s outdoor gloves, sold for half the price. They were beige colored, cut from a material that at least felt like it could be suede, and fitted with buttons that ran from the wrist to halfway down the forearm. Denton had given Katherine and his aunt a copy of what they needed to make, and the two of them had spent the last two weeks laboriously going through motions of proper glove making until Katherine had made something that was almost a perfect replica of the one Denton had given her.

This was going to be her second test.

Katherine took a swatch of brown fabric from the pile at the center of the table. She was surprised to see that the shape of the glove had already been cut out, with two long hand outlines spread one on top of the other. It was like they had already skipped a whole step in the production. Bizarre, but at least one less thing for her to do. Using the machine, she stitched the sides together, then started to place the fingers together to be sewn individually. All that was left to do was connect the two sides, cut the center of the sleeve for an opening, then attach buttons onto the break and add holes on the other side, allowing for the glove to be easily taken on and off.  

Good. Easy. Should be fine. Should be just _fine._

She began to put the glove’s pinky finger under the needle.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Redhead again. What was her deal? Katherine noticed the other girls were staring as well.

“...Making a glove?”

Redhead rolled her eyes.

“We don’t make the whole glove dummy. Our table just does the inline seams. Haven’t you ever done this job before?”

"Oh, um...no. I mean, yes, I have done this before, but, um…

Redhead turned to Shayna accusingly. “Did Frank even ask her if she’d done this before?”

The younger girl shook her head. Redhead rolled her eyes for the third time that morning. Katherine wondered if they ever came down.

“Of course he didn’t. Typical Frank, always whining about how our inventory is down, then goes and hires the first greenhorn who’s got a bosom. If he’s expecting us to teach her and finish the delivery by next week, he’s got another thing coming, let me tell you-”

“Not even eight in the morning and Rachel Shapiro is whining? Why am I not surprised?”

A stream of natural light drenched the room for a split second, leaving behind the silhouette of a new girl leaning against the factory’s door. A large wicker basket was pressed against her hip, and her hair was done up in a mock Gibson Girl style; piled loosely at the top with a few strands hanging free to frame her face.

Redhead sat up a little straighter in her seat and smirked. “Well as sure as the day I was born, Sarah Jacobs has finally graced us with her presence.”

The girl called Sarah Jacobs handed her wicker basket to one of the nearby tables, then plopped herself down on the remaining seat at table four.

“Good morning to you too Rachel. It’s nice to know you keep waking up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Before Rachel could barb back Sarah turned in her seat and called over to table where her basket now rested.

“Pass those around to table six, there’s enough for at least two hundred gloves! That’s authentic Polish lace, girls, don’t mess it up with your grubby little hands!”

Spectacles girl pointed to the large clock that hung over the back wall.

“You’re fifteen minutes late Sarah.”

Sarah turned back and gave a bemused look.

“So? I’m part time.”

Shayna scrunched up her face in confusion. “Part time? What does this mean?”

“It means she can come in late and Frank will look the other way.” Rachel was back to her eye rolling.

“Frank looks the other way because I live with the best lace maker this side of Hester Street.” Sarah turned to Shayna and smiled gently. “Part time just means I have shorter hours than everyone else. Like -------.”

More Yiddish. Katherine didn’t know any Yiddish. Her father had made it clear from her earliest days that while English, French, German, and even some Hungarian was permitted in his household, Yiddish would always remain the outlier. ‘The Pant Presser’s Language’, he called it.

“So, I guess you’re the new Chava, huh?”

Katherine looked up from her work, startled. Sarah’s attention was now on her. Spectacles frowned. “We don’t need a new Chava. Our Chava is the only Chava that matters. Katie’s just here to fill in while she’s gone.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Katie? That sounds like a goyishe name. Did Ellis Island mangle up your birth certificate?”

“My full name is Katherine.” She immediately regretted it after she said it. “Katherine _Siegel_.”

“Katherine. Kath-rine.” Sarah lulled over the word slowly and deliberately, like she was tasting it in her mouth. “That’s either Irish or WASP. And you don’t look either. No offense.”

Katherine shrugged and started on another glove (this time not going past the inline seam).“My father wanted us to have American sounding names.”

Sarah nodded understandingly. “My dad wanted us kids to have American names too. He thought it would make things easier for us. But Mama gets so traditional about some things. They finally compromised when my youngest brother was born. He got an American name, but she got to choose it.”

Rachel looked up from her work in surprise. “Is that how Les got his name?”

“It’s short for Lester, you didn’t know that?”

The table burst out laughing. Katherine found herself joining in. “If you don’t mind me asking, why Lester?”

Sarah shrugged. “I have no idea. I think she might have seen it in a newspaper somewhere? He goes by Les though. Call him Lester and you’re sure to get a kick in the shin. We call him Lemmel sometimes if we’re speaking Yiddish.”

Shayna smiled. “I knew a Lemmel back in Krakow. Nice old man. Used to sell us eggs every market day.”

Rachel was rolled her eyes again for the fifth time (Katherine was now keeping track). “You say about everyone back in Krakow. _‘Nice old man, nice little baby, nice tree, nice dead chicken, nice latrine...’_ ”

The girls all laughed at Rachel’s perfect imitation of Shayna’s inflection. Shayna seemed to take it in stride. “Well, it’s true. There were many nice things back home. Just...not most of the time. So you just think more about the things that are nice.”

“I like that Shayna, you have such a lovely outlook on life. Certain people could use more of that, don’t you think Rachel?” Sarah looked over at the redhead with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t talk to me about outlook. You’re too American to talk about shtetl life.”

“I’m an anchor baby. It’s my job to be as assimilated as possible.”

Shayna looked confused again. “Assim-? I don’t know what that means too.”

“She means blending in, becoming a part of the dominant culture. American culture, that is.” The words left Katherine’s mouth before she could stop them.

Sarah stared at her for moment. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it means.”

“Great, she knows a couple of ten cent words.” Rachel’s thin brows furrowed deeper into her pale face. “It’s a shame she can’t put any of those brains into sewing.”

“Why would Frank hire her if she can’t sew?” Sarah peered over at Katherine’s station. Katherine’s heart started beating so fast she hardly noticed the other girl picking up her ruined glove.

“Huh, that’s not too bad. You might be putting your foot down too hard on the peddle, that’s why your stitches look a little off. Do you have an older model at home?”

“Umm…” Katherine tried to think back to the machine Denton’s aunt had taught her on. “I think… the peddle was flatter, I believe.”

To her relief, Sarah nodded encouragingly. “That’s the one my mom has. It can take a while to get used to.”

“She tried to finish the whole glove, Sarah! We can’t risk to have a slip up like that, especially with Frank breathing down our necks.”

“Well, did you tell her what she was supposed to do?”

For the first time all day Rachel didn’t have a retort. It was now Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes.

“That’s what I thought.”

The table remained quiet for the rest of the morning.

* * *

By midday Katherine’s hands were cramping.

That wasn’t quite the right word for it. Cramping was what happened when she held a pen for too long or was hunched over her typewriter for hours trying to finish the latest vaudeville review. This pain was an entirely different animal. There was a noticeable shudder in her hands as she tried to open her tin lunch pail (a donation from Denton’s school days). After a five hour morning shift, the girls were allotted a fifteen lunch break. Since no food was allowed near the merchandise, everyone filed out of the building and stood in small groups, talking quietly while trying to heave down as much as possible. Eating while standing up was not a task Katherine had expected to learn how to master. Biting down on her apple with a shaky hand, she listened in as Rivka (as she learned the spectacles girl was called), describe her sister’s upcoming wedding.

“...Mama says she can use her old dress, but Goldie’s been saying she wants to make her own.”

Rachel scrunched her nose in disgust. “I don’t blame her. If someone put me in some mildew-y getup from the seventies I’d want make my own dress too. And isn’t Goldie a head taller than your mom?”

“Mama says we can just add extra fabric to the bottom, but we haven’t been able to find anything that matches yet. They’ve been arguing about it for weeks…”

Something felt wrong to Katherine. It was a gut instinct, like a rabbit being circled by a hawk.  She peered over Rivka’s shoulder and saw a man, about ten years her senior, standing nearby. He was staring at the girls intently. No one else seemed particularly phased by this.

“Speaking of families, how’s yours Sarah?” Rivka was keeping her tone casual, but Katherine noticed a slight jump in her voice.

“My family?” Sarah looked a bit taken aback. “Uh… they’re the same, I guess? Mama’s still working still work from home, thank god, and my dad-”

“No, not your parents! I meant how’s your brother?”

The others groaned, and Sarah stopped in mid bite to give Rivka an appraising look.

“For the last time Rivka, David is not interested.”

“But you haven’t even asked him yet!”

“I don’t need to. You’re too young for him.”

“It’s only three years difference!”

“Listen, I don’t think I’ve ever seen David show interest in a girl, any girl. All he cares about nowadays is his _schooling_.” Sarah spit that last word like a dart, puncturing the air as she took an exceptionally large bite from her own apple.

Rachel smirked. “Looks like someone’s still a little bitter.”

“Leave it, Rachel.”

“I mean, I’d thought you’d be over it by now…”

“I said, _leave it_ Rachel.”

Those eyes. That man was still watching them. Rivka was stretching her arms above her head, and his eyes followed her, watching as her slim backside swayed side to side with each motion. Katherine couldn’t take it any longer.

“Um, Rivka? Don’t look now, but I think someone’s staring at you.”

A hush fell over the circle. Rivka gave one last stretch and did a quick glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, that’s just Ned. He’s the afternoon foreman. He’s Frank’s friend.”

“But...why is he staring at us?”

“That’s just part of their job. They watch us to make sure we don’t goof off during break. Frank does it too, see?”

Sure enough Frank was also standing in the courtyard, his eyes intently focused in on Hannah, his so called ‘pacemaker’. In the natural light she looked even younger, closer to nine than twelve.

“But don’t you think that’s a little odd? I mean, Frank looks like he’s pushing forty. It isn’t proper for a man to be staring at a young girl like that.”

“It’s not?”

Katherine was met an array of faces; Rivka and Shayna looked confused. Rachel was furious. Sarah simply averted her eyes.

Rachel suddenly slammed the top of her lunch tin. “Well, I’ve just lost my appetite. I better get back to work. Someone’s gonna have to make up for all the mistakes Katie’s made today. You coming girls?”

She stormed off, followed dutifully by Rivka and then Shayna, who kept looking forlornly back at the dispersed group. Now only Sarah and Katherine were left.

“Listen,” Sarah’s voice was barely above a whisper.“It’s better if you don’t bring up those kinds of thing in front of Rachel. Just try to stay on the good side of Frank and his friends and you should be fine, yeah? Don’t get too friendly, but try to smile and stay nice. Then… make sure they don’t notice you at all.”

Before Katherine could respond a sharp whistle rang out into the courtyard. Lunch was now over. Sarah had already left her side, joining the mass of girls trying to make their way back into the building.

Katherine hadn’t finished her apple.

* * *

It was now eight hours into the work day. Katherine’s head felt fuzzy; the dust in the air seemed to swirl around her, the sound of the machines seemed to clatter incessantly in her ear, her arms and shoulder felt beyond use. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore, if she was even going through the right motions. How many hours were left in her shift? Three? Five? An eternity?

She felt faint. Her head was like a rock on the edge of a cliff; tilting precariously, threatening to keel over at any moment. Maybe it was the hunger. Or the lack of air. Or the fact she had been doing the same monotonous task over and over again. No human body was made to be worked like this. But if her new coworkers were feeling the same fatigue they sure weren’t showing it. They kept up an almost rhythmic pace, seam after seam after seam. Katherine wondered if this was a bit like being a long distance runner; if you keep up the same pace for long enough, your body becomes used to it and doesn’t give way to the pain.

But then again, a long distance runner stretched before a big race. And they usually ate too.

 _Denton better be good at giving back massages_ , Katherine thought as she grabbed another outline to be stitched together. She wondered if there’d be a way to conspicuously finish her apple without anyone noticing when her hand suddenly slipped. Her fingers got lost under the fabric and she tried to pull them out but she was just so tired and-

Crack!

Katherine felt a sharp, stinging pain coming from her fingers. The cheap needle on the machine had broken off and now lay forlornly on the table beside her. The half made glove, still stuck on her aching hand was now splotching red. Black spots appeared in her vision.

Oh God, she was going to be sick....

Katherine slowly began to stand up. Her body swayed precariously as she tried to regain her balance. The others looked up from their work.

“Katie, are you okay?” Was that Sarah? She hoped that was Sarah.

“I need some air. There’s an outhouse in the back, right?”

“You can’t just leave in the middle of work! They’ll sack you for it!” Rachel, probably.

“You don’t understand, I need to leave, I…” Katherine held up her injured hand, now free of its makeshift glove. Her middle and ring finger were slashed through the middle, blood seeping from the cut. Her free hand clung to the back of her chair for balance.

Rivka gasped. “Oh no, this is just like Chava. We need to get her help now!”

“Don’t go making a big fuss about this, Frank might see!” But even Rachel looked disturbed by the sight of Katherine’s hand.

Rivka looked as if she were about to cry. “I don’t care if Frank sees! She’s gotta get help, she’s gotta get help now!”

A slam suddenly came from the opposite end and the room fell into a hush. Frank was leaning on his office door, a newspaper rolled in one hand.

“Ladies, do we have a problem out here?”

Shayna quickly stood up and shook her head fervently. “No Frank, no problem at all. Katie’s just having a little hard time.”  

Wasn’t that the understatement of the century.

“Well, make sure she stops having a hard time stat, or whatever she can’t get done will come out of your pay. Can you understand that ladies? Or should I say it again for you in yid?”

All eyes were now on Katherine. This could not be how this ended for her, passed out on the floor of a dirty factory, an investigative journalist who had failed on the first day of the job. She just had to find a way to get through this, she just had to…

There was suddenly a warm hand on her shoulder. Her body steadied under its grip.

“I’ll finish whatever Katie can’t.”

Sarah Jacobs. Katherine had only known this girl for eight hours, but she could practically kiss her by this point. Her voice was faint in her ear.

“My shift’s over. Come with me and I’ll bandage you up in the back.”

* * *

 

Sarah’s wicker basket was turned upside down. It made for a pretty good seat, Katherine thought. She had taken her to the back of the building, which housed a rusty water pump and an outhouse with a broken door hinge. Sarah had put Katherine’s bloody hand under the pump and let the metallic, lukewarm water flow over it. After the wound was clean she she took a spare piece of fabric and began to wind it around Katherine’s damaged hand.

“Keep this on for about three days, that’ll give it enough time to do some mending. After that you should change the bandage. It’ll probably be fine in a few weeks.”

“Do you think I should see a doctor?” Katherine’s head still felt woozy.

Sarah snorted. “What would a doctor do? Give you some cheap linens and over charge you for it? Doctors are for emergencies, and even then they’re pretty unhelpful. Have you ever been to a hospital?”

Katherine in fact had been to a hospital. A private one, after she had gotten her tonsils removed. But Katie Siegel had probably hadn’t. She shook her head.

Sarah made a face. “Good. They’re absolutely terrible. We had to go to one a few years when my dad got meningitis. It was awful. There were twenty people to a room, and everything smelled like bedpan. Oh, and they charged us so much, it was ridiculous! We were behind our rent for months after that.”

Sarah leaned down to help Katherine back up. She picked up her basket and placed it back on her hip. It took Katherine a second to realize that the two of them were still holding hands. Sarah seemed to notice it too, as a blush crept across her face and she gently yanked hers away. She started to head toward the side alleyway.

“Remember, no hospitals. If that thing gets worse, just come to me. Oh, and Katie?”

The fuzziness in Katherine’s brain ceased for a brief second at the mention of her false name.

“…yes?”

“What do you do to get your hands so soft? I’d die to get palms like that. Almost feels like you never worked a day in your life.”

Katherine laughed weakly. “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

“No kidding.” Sarah looked down at her own calloused palms and winced. “Well, I’m off. See you tomorrow, new girl!”

She gave one last grin before departing. She had dimples when she smiled.

Katherine went back into the factory on a cloud. It was the absolute lightest she had felt all day. It didn’t matter that her hand was bandaged for an undeterrable amount of time. Or that her stomach still ached. Or that the other girls hated her. Or that this horror show was going to be her life for the next two months.

Sarah Jacobs thought her hands were soft. Soft enough to have never worked a day in their life.

If Katherine played her cards right, she’d never know how close she was to the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy it's my birthday leave me a comment telling me what you think so far <3 <3 <3


	3. Chapter 3

“So... what do you think?”

Denton was giving Katherine _That Look_ . That sad, nervous, puppy dog eyes look that asked, _‘You’re not mad at me, right?’_. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, a habit he always fell back into whenever he was nervous.

Katherine sighed and rubbed his shoulder affectionately. “The apartment’s wonderful, Bryan. Really”

And technically, it was. It was certainly a step up from the glove factory. It was clean, for one thing. And it didn’t smell like dust and sweat. Sure, it was small, but not small enough for two adults to live somewhat comfortably, especially since there were two rooms. Well, technically one doubled as the kitchen, but there were two beds so that she and Denton wouldn’t have to share, and-

It was bizarre, Katherine realized, how much she was defending this seedy tenement apartment. Amazing what a few days in a sweatshop could do to your standard of living.

Her mind was still in a blur. The last three days had been miserably interchangeable; Katherine got up too early, went to bed too late, and in the interim dealt with backbreaking work along with the aloof scrutiny of her coworkers and the reserved kindness of Sarah. Payday couldn't come soon enough. And when it did, it was like leaning in for a kiss only to be struck with a slap.

“Forty-five cents! I’ve put in over nearly fifty hours for them and all I get for it is forty-five lousy cents!”

“Calm down Katie, you’ve been here less than a week.” Rachel was always there to strike her down with a signature eye roll.“You started Tuesday, of course they’re not going to pay you the full amount.”

“Not to mention you broke that needle on your first day, they probably docked you money for that too.” Rivka piped in.

“How could I forget.” Katherine mumbled, rubbing her stinging, bandaged fingers.

Her new situation was not helped by the fact that she had been squatting at Denton’s apartment since the experiment began. Staying at her own flat on Park Avenue would really raise suspicions to a whole other level. But it was still a thirty minute trek to get from his place to the factory, and Katherine knew the girls would begin to talk soon if she couldn’t come up with a credible address soon.

So Denton started apartment hunting for the two of them. Their search had been quick, limiting themselves to places with running water and at least two rooms, and finally settled on a fourth floor residence of an only somewhat shabby tenement building in the center of the Lower East Side. The fact that it seemed to house mostly families was a comfort for Katherine. For a girl who had never been downtown for more than a day at a time Katherine grasped onto anything for comfort. By early Friday evening she had nearly finished unpacking. Denton was off for the night, covering a late-night politicians’ summit on Manhattan’s water supply. For the first time in what felt like ages, Katherine found herself completely alone; no Denton, no chatty seamstresses, no creepy foreman. Just her and her thoughts (and the noise in the streets below). She took a deep breath and exhaled, rubbing her temples as she slid into a nearby chair.

Maybe she could sit here for the rest of the night. Or maybe for all entirety. However long it took to make her feel like a human being again. Eating, bathing, unpacking; all that could come later. She had a good twelve hours until her next shift, it wouldn’t hurt just to sit here and doze…

_“-----------?”_

There was a sharp knock on the door. Katherine jumped out of her seat, knocking over her chair and banging her head on a light fixture in the process.

_"------? -------------?”_

Crap. More Yiddish. She should have bought a dictionary before coming here.

_“------------------.”_

The voice sounded young. And girlish. That was comforting at least. Katherine weighed her options- if she ignored the knocking, her neighbors would only grow suspicious. But if she answered she’d have to deal with a fluent Yiddish speaker, who was probably expecting the same of her. That would also raise suspicions.

The knocking continued. Finally, Katherine made a split-second decision and headed towards the door. She may have been completely unequipped for this situation, but if finishing school taught her anything, it was that rudeness was worse than any language barrier. She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she almost jumped back in surprise when she finally opened the door.

There was Sarah Jacobs, hair free from its bun and flowing down her back, holding a flat, tin container under her arm. Her fist was still in mid knock.

“ _\------_ \- Katie? What are you doing here?”

Katherine shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. “I... live here.”

“Oh right… I should’ve known that.”

There was an unsettling pause wherein the two girls stared at each other, unsure of what to say next. A small stream of late afternoon sun fought through the dingy apartment window, and it fell gently onto the side of Sarah’s face. She ducked her head and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She looked different with her hair down. Softer, younger. But tired too. The confident edge she carried with her at work was faded, and in its place was quiet vulnerability she seemed to hold close to her chest. It was a nice effect, Katherine thought. She almost looks like a figure in a renaissance painting…

She quickly shook the thought from her head. This was not the time for unnecessary emotions. “So, uh...what do you have there?”

“Oh, this? My mom made it, it’s kugel. She got all excited when she found out someone finally moved in upstairs. Don’t worry, it’s kosher if you’re strict about those kinds of things. Mama decided to play it safe, you can never get too devout around here. We’re practically a shtetl, only you can always close the door if the arguing gets too loud.” Sarah gave a little half laugh. Katherine stared at the other girl blankly. Should she laugh here?

Sarah cleared her throat and quietly passed her the tray. “Don’t eat it all in one sitting, that’s how you get night terrors” Another pause, and Katherine realized she should’ve laughed then too. Why was she so bad at this?

“Well...I’ll see you at work then.” Sarah made a turn to leave and before Katherine could stop herself she spoke.

 Sarah, wait-! Would you… like to come in?”

The younger girl paused in her step, then shrugged and turned to follow her inside.

Right now their apartment was pretty bare- Denton got two second hand chairs and a small table for the main area, while two cots were shoved into the second room along with an small metal wash basin (Katherine did not want to think about how she was going to manage a full body bath). A small stove resided in the left-hand corner of the main room, the one piece of furniture that came with the apartment. Katherine had only made a few half hearted attempts to light it. The rest were crates, holding clothes and books. Katherine frantically scanned the room for anything that looked even remotely suspicious. Thankfully Denton had put their typewriters in the second room. She knew inviting Sarah in was a risky move. There was way too much at stake with this project, and one slip could cost not only her career, but Denton’s as well.

And yet...wouldn’t it be just as detrimental if Katherine didn’t play the part of the friendly coworker? Afterall, even just making small talk with Sarah could count as an interview. Katherine needed to get the girls to trust her, and right now she was the only one who was willing to give her the time of day. And, though she didn’t want to admit it, deep down there was a part that really wanted Sarah to like her. But that was just another unnecessary emotion.

"Wow, you did a really good job cleaning up the place!” Sarah did a small turn, prying her head to take in all the nooks and crannies of the space. “It was a waste bin when the Feinstein's were living here. They had nine kids, and I’m pretty sure the grandmother was staying with them too before she died.”

Katherine shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad when we moved in. It was mostly dusting.”

Which Denton did the majority of because she had never learned the proper way to use a broom.

“Is your family nearby? I’d love to meet them.”

"It’s just me and my cousin right now. Just the two of us.” She hoped keeping it as vague as possible would offset anymore unwanted questions.

“Wow, you’re so lucky, all this space to yourself. It’s tough enough trying to fit five people into two rooms. Did you have a lot of brothers and sisters back at home?”

“I have six. Well, sort of. I mean-” Another slip. She was giving herself away more by the second. “Well, we were seven, but then...my sister…”

There was a knot in Katherine’s throat and she could feel her cheeks getting hotter. She did not mean for that to slip out. She wasn’t used to people asking about her family. Everyone took what they wanted to know about the Pulitzers from the gossip columns and never bothered to look further than that. When Lucy had died the condolence bouquets had come from every pocket of the city, but no one had bothered asking how her family was actually doing. And soon, the paper circulation had moved on, and Lucy’s passing had become old news, like last week’s stock market. The loss of her sister had become a block hole in her family, no one wanting to go near it in fear they’d be sucked in by the grief. They did what Pulitzers do best; tough it up and move along.

So Katherine had done just that. She pushed those feelings, all that pain and regret and white hot grief, and stuck it in the crevices of her brain where they couldn’t bother her. There was no time to think about seven siblings becoming six. And anyone who knew her knew not to bring up. Even Denton wouldn’t ask. But now, this girl she had known for barely a week was asking. And for some godforsaken reason, Katherine was telling.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Sarah was looking down at the floor.

“Oh no, I’m the one who should be sorry. I let my feelings get carried away.”

“-But I shouldn’t’ve asked. I’m just too nosy for my own good sometimes. My brothers are always raging on me for it-.”

“-But you didn't know! It’s fine Sarah, don’t worry about it! I don’t want you to -” _think I don’t like you_. Katherine left that last part unsaid. Unnecessary. All completely unnecessary.

Another awkward pause. Katherine immediately began to regret this little house warming party.

“Hey, is that a Twain?” Sarah was looking intently at one Denton’s half opened crates.

Dread shot through Katherine like a pistol. “Oh! Um, I’m not sure. All those things my cousin’s. He’s, uh…going to night school. Sometimes. When he’s not working. Which he is. Right now.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“...do you mind if I take a look?”

“Oh, I guess.” Where’s the harm in that, right?

“Thanks.” Sarah darted over to the crate and began to dig. She picked up a Twain volume and began to flip through its pages. “I miss having things like this around. The only books we keep anymore are for my brother’s schooling, and they’re all rented, so he won’t let anyone near them. And the bookstores in our area, it’s all in Yiddish, so it’s rare to get a Twain, or even a Dickens around here.”

“You can read Yiddish?”

Sarah nodded. “I’m pretty good in both. My parents aren’t great with reading English, so we mostly get Yiddish newspapers. But I had a teacher who was training to be a librarian back when I was still in school. She’d bring things in for us to borrow, as long as we took good care of them.”

She didn’t look up from the book as she continued. “Twain was always my favorite. Everyone talks about the one with the boys and the fence… but I liked the travel ones the best. Especially went he went overseas, and went to Italy and all those places. I know he’s written more recent things, I just can’t get my hands on them.”

She closed the volume and gently rubbed her calloused finger against the spine.

“But...you’re not in school anymore?” This, again, was more of a statement than a question. Obviously Sarah wasn’t in school anymore. What Katherine wanted to know was why. “I mean, you’re clearly smart. I know you’d succeed.”

“Yeah, well you’re not exactly a dimbulb yourself, and I don’t see you doing any schooling.” Sarah was still smiling, but there was a new edge to her voice. Katherine cringed inwardly. She had clearly hit a raw nerve.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across as judgemental, or…”

“No, it’s fine. You have brothers too, right?”

Katherine nodded. She didn’t exactly follow Sarah’s logic.

“So you get. Boys comes first. I was the afterthought, and that was only because public schools are coed.” She walked back over to the table, book in hand. “I was fourteen when they pulled me out. How about you?”

Katherine’s mouth went dry. “Oh, me? I was fourteen too.”

The ends of Sarah’s mouth tightened inward. “I think the worst part was when my folks told me it was because of money. And I know they’re right. But… even if we did have the money, I don’t think anything would have changed. It’s not that they don’t think I have brains, they just value David’s more.”

“I can definitely understand that.”

“Oh?”

Katherine had to choose her words carefully.  “When I see Den- my cousin, I mean, doing something I that I feel I could do…I mean, something I _know_ I could do better than him, I get so bitter. And I don’t mean too, I know I should just be happy for him…but it hurts. And I don’t want to tell him that because I don’t want to take away from any of his successes. But it still hurts. And there’s nothing I can really do to change that.”

Another pause, and Katherine realised she had never said that out loud before. There had been no one to say it to. Until her.

"Wait, your cousin? You said he’s working tonight, right?”

“…Yes?”

“So you’re here all alone?”

Katherine sat up a little straighter. “Oh, well, I guess…”

Sarah stood up and began to straighten her skirts. “You could come eat with my family, we’d be happy to have you.”

“What? Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Katie, it’s Friday. Mama always makes extra in case someone visits. Just put your kugel on the shelf and come with me. We live right under you.”

Katherine’s gut gave a twist. Everything about this situation was telling her to say no. And yet…

“Are you sure they’ll be fine with it?”

“Oh please, we’re neighbors now. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

* * *

There was a good twenty-five seconds of pure panic that ran through Katherine’s mind as she followed Sarah down the rickety staircase. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile; doing the bare minimum at work, giving out as little information as possible, and in general keeping people off her back. A week into the job and she had managed to break all three of these rules. Now she was going to meet Sarah’s family. At this rate the whole neighborhood was going to know her face.

“You don’t need to worry about introducing yourself, I’ve told them all about your uh, accident on Tuesday. We’ve got extra gauze if you need it by the way...”

The two of them stopped at the second to last door in the hallway, marked by a copper mezuzah tilted sideways on the door frame. Sarah put her pointer and index fingers together, kissed them, and held them gently up to the case. She then pushed through the door, with Katherine following cautiously behind.

“Mama, you’ll never guess who our new neighbor is.”

“Sholem Aleichem? President McKinley? I would like clues, please.” The responding voice had a dry inflection to it that Katherine now recognized as Polish. Almost like Shayna’s. It belonged petite woman standing by the stove, sifting through the contents of a large pot. Her hair was pulled back and hidden under a black headscarf that tied in the back. She glanced over at the two of them, and Katherine could see where Sarah got her expressive face from.

“You are the new neighbors? Where’s the rest of you?”

Sarah put a reassuring arm on Katherine’s shoulder. “It’s just Katie, Mama. From work. She’s by herself tonight, I thought she could eat with us.”

Mrs. Jacobs raised an eyebrow. “Katie? The one with the fingers?”

Katherine held up her right hand and gave what she hoped was a winning grin. “Uh…that’s me.”

Mrs. Jacobs’ face instantly softened. “Oh, you poor dear! Yes, yes, of course you can eat with us. I’ll add more onion to the pot, we need more water. David-?”

A teenage boy sat at the edge of the kitchen table, his nose buried deep in a thick textbook. Two more towered beside him, fighting for space on the small surface with several long strands of unfinished lacework and a stack of neatly folded men’s shirts. He looked up from his book with an expression of half surprise, half dazed bewilderment.

“Yes Mama?”

“Get some water from the hallway, I need to warm it up.”

David grabbed a bucket that sat at the foot of the stove. He gave a slight nod to Katherine and Sarah as he maneuvered his way around them and several chairs, making his way to the door.

“And say hello to our guest! I raised a gentleman, yes? Act like one please.”

A slight blush crept onto David’s cheeks. He paused and gave another nod to Katherine.

“Hello.”

Katherine tried to give another smile. “Hi, I’m Katie.”

David looked as if he was about to respond, then thought better of it and jutted through the door.

Sarah turned to Katherine. “Don’t mind David, he’s just forgotten how to be social. He’s stuck in that goyishe school all day, reading these tombs.” She gave the textbook stack a hollow knock.

Mrs. Jacobs looked up from the cutting board. “Don’t make fun. Your brother works very hard at school.”

“Yeah, and it’s turning him into a hermit.”

Taking in the Jacobs’ apartment, Katherine realized that they essentially had the same layout as the one she had upstairs. Two rooms, one slightly smaller than the other, and a small stove stationed at the side. But the Jacobs’ place was obviously more lived in; along with the table and several chairs, a neatly made bed sat by the window. Katherine could see a stack of dime novels shoved underneath it, along with a ratty baseball glove and several pairs of worn shoes. The walls had been papered with a faded design that appeared to be rows of flowers, and several embrowdery pieces hung on the walls; a bouquet of edelweiss in one, and some sort of fancy transcript in Hebrew in another. Dishes and other kitchenware were stacked above the stove, along with a large metal basin with a washerboad placed covertly beside it. Katherine wondered if they used it to take baths. Maybe they’d let her borrow it if she asked…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sarah.

“Mama, shirts? Really?” Sarah held up one of the mens’ button downs that lay on the kitchen table. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking in homework, I would’ve picked up an extra shift today.”

“It was a change of plan. The factory on Orchard said they didn’t need the lace today, so to get the pay they had me finish shirts.” Mrs. Jacobs was avoiding her daughter’s gaze as she added sliced carrots to the pot.

“Didn’t need it? They’re not supposed to-! Didn’t David read over the contract before you signed?”

“Yes, but maybe the wording was wrong. They were pretty insistent. I can’t just say no. Then there’s no pay at all.”

Sarah’s hold on the shirt tightened into a fist. “Mama, next time that happens you need to put your foot down. You’re too talented to be taken advantage of like this. David-!”

Sarah’ brother had re-entered the room, full bucket in hand. She held up the shirt like an accusing piece of evidence. “-Wanna explain this to me?”

“There’s nothing to explain Sarah.” David seemed to have found his grounding despite Katherine’s presence, and opened the cabinet door with a little more force than necessary. He lowered his voice as he set a smaller pot on the table. “Mama told me that there were two other men in the foreman’s office today. Said that they were behind on their inventory after they fired a bunch of people, and since they couldn’t use the lace yet this was the only way she could get paid this week. They essentially threatened her. ”

David emptied the bucket and put the pot on the stove’s second burner. He glanced at his mother, who seemed intently focused on her soup, then over at Katherine, who wished she was anywhere but here right now. “Let’s talk about this later, okay?”

Sarah took a deep breath and eased her grip. “Next time you or Papa have go with her. They’re less likely to get away with these things if there’s another man around.”

“I couldn’t be with her today, I had to finish a test.”

“That was your excuse last time!”

“Well, I had test then too!”

“You two!” Esther rapt her ladle against the edge of the pot, getting her children’s attention. “Enough! It’s fine. I got the pay, yes? You can’t be pushy with these things. What's important is that we have food tonight. Behave yourselves for our guest.”

“Speaking of pushy, where’s Les?” Sarah was now gathering up the lace pieces and putting them in the hamper. Mrs. Jacobs returned to her onions.

 “He’s outside playing. You should probably call him in soon, I don’t want him all worked up at the table.”

Sarah nodded, and went over to the large, four pane window. She climbed onto the bed, getting a chagrined “Sarah!” from David, and opened the ledge with a single pull. She leaned out onto the fire escape and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“LES! GET IN HERE! SUPPER’S ON!”

“So much yelling, why is there so much yelling? How did I get blessed with children with such healthy lungs?”

A lanky, middle-aged man stood in the doorway. His accent denoted foreigner, but his handlebar mustache and bowler hat were quintessentially American. His fist was grasped tight around a brown paper bag, and he smelled of something strong and distinct. Tobacco? That was definitely tobacco.

Mrs. Jacobs gave him a quick peck on the lips as she wiped her hands on her apron. “I was hoping they wouldn’t keep you too late.”

“The foreman had us leave early. He wanted to get to the salons as soon as they opened. That man can drink a whole army under a table.” He took off his hat and hung it on a nearby hook, bumping into Katherine in the process.

“Why, hello there. Who are you?”

Sarah looked up from the bowls she was setting at the kitchen table. “This is Katie, Papa. She just moved into the Feinstein place. We work together.”

Mr. Jacobs reached out his hand. “Katie? Fingers Katie?”

Katherine grinned and gingerly shook it. “The one and only.”

“What’s in the bag?” David asked.

“Challah. I got the last loaf before the store closed.”

“That is good! I was worried we’d have to use an old loaf for tonight.” Esther unfurled the bread from the bag and put it in the center of the table. “All we need is wine. And Les. Where is that boy?”

As if on cue, the doorway was opened once again with a slam.

“I’M HOOME!” A small boy rushed into the apartment, winding up the energy room like a tornado. In one hand he held a stick, and in the other a small ball, stitched together with several different pieces of fabric. He bounded over to David, giving him a quick noogie on the head, then tossed his toys underneath the bed, creating a small thud when the stick hit one of the books.

“Les, we have a guest!” Sarah admonished. “This is Katie, try to act decent for her sake.”

Les made a face at his sister, then darted over to Katherine.

“Hi! What happened to your hand? Does it hurt?”

“Geez Les, what did I just say?” Sarah mouthed _‘I’m sorry’_ as she put a faded blue and white cover over the bread.

“It’s alright,” Katherine bent down so that she and Les were on the same eye level. “I just got them cut on a sewing machine. It’s almost healed up, see?”

Les inspected her hand thoroughly. “Maybe you’ll have a real swell scar when the bandages come off. Then no one would mess with you!”

Katherine grinned. “I bet I could make up a good story to go along with it.”

“Yeah, say you were in a knife fight!”

Mrs. Jacobs clapped her hands together. “Alright, no more bad talk! Who has the time?”

“It’s almost seven. Sunset should be in about ten minutes.” David was peeking out the window, squinting his eyes at the fading horizon.

His mother took two candlesticks and set them on the table. “Well then, we better get ready fast. We can’t have a late Shabbat on our hands.”

A sudden rush came over the small room as everyone scrambled to get ready for dinner. Sarah finished covering the bread and took a large wine glass from the cabinet that reminded Katherine of a medieval goblet from a fairy tale. Mr. Jacobs went into the second room and came out with something indiscernible in his hand; Katherine realized, as he went over to his sons, that they were kippahs. Katherine knees tensed up. Something clearly important was going on. Something religious. And she had no idea what it was.

The candles were now lit, and everyone stood around the table, solemn and expectant. Expectant for what, Katherine had no idea. This felt like another test. One she wasn’t sure she’d pass.

Mrs. Jacobs’ eyes were closed, and she moved her hands over the candles in a curved, swaying motion. She cupped her hands over her eyes and began to sing. This was a different language. Not Polish, but definitely not Yiddish. It took Katherine a moment to realize she was praying. Sing-praying, now there was a novel concept. She was so enthralled she almost didn’t notice Sarah’s mother pouring the wine into the glass and holding it above the table. She then started another prayer. Everyone’s heads were bowed. The silence seemed to weigh on Katherine like a warm blanket, lulling her into a sense of comfort. For the first time all week, Katherine felt truly at peace. The cup was being passed around, and everyone took a sip from it. More praying. Then finally Mrs. Jacobs picked up the challah from under the blue cloth. She sang one last prayer, and then ripped off a part of the bread and passed it around in a similar manner to the cup. And as soon as it was started, it was now suddenly done. The quiet disapperated as everyone began to sit down, and Sarah took a ladle and started spooning the soup into each bowl as they were being passed around. Katherine gave a quiet sigh of relief.

“So Katie, ------------ -------- ----- _?_ ” Mr. Jacobs was looking at her expectantly.

And there it went.

Katherine almost choked on a piece of celery. Time to face the music. “Um, I’m sorry…I don’t speak Yiddish very well.”

“He asking if you like the building!” Les’ voice was muffled between mouthfuls of bread.

“Les, don’t talk with food!” His mother admonished.

Sarah quickly made eye contact from across the table. “Katie’s family is very assimilated Papa.”

Mr. Jacobs looked at her with interest. “Really? Where are they from?”

“My father… he’s from Hungary.” Was this too much of a truth? Katherine wasn’t sure how much she could get away with.

“A name like Siegel, I thought you would be German.”

“Papa was born in Frankfurt," Sarah supplied. "That’s why he’s curious.”

“Frankfurt, really? But…” Katherine looked over at Mrs. Jacobs, whom she swore had been speaking with a Polish accent.

“I am not from Frankfurt. As he likes to remind me. Germans, they are all snobs.”

“That’s not fair, I’m only a small snob.” Mr.Jacobs gave his wife a sly grin. “But I knew many people called Siegel when I was a boy, which is why I’m asking.”

“It might have changed it when he came over, I’m not sure. He doesn’t… like to talk about the old country much. That’s why I never learned…. Um….” Keep it vague, Katherine, keep it vague. “But the building! I like it a lot! How long have you lived here?”

“Eleven years, right before Les was born.”

"I'm ten!” Les piped in.

Sarah rolled his eyes. “He’s nine.”

“He’ll be ten in two months.” David supplied as he passed the challah to his mother.

“Ten years.” Mrs. Jacobs shook her head in disbelief. “That’s almost half as long as Mayer’s been with Broadwell.”

“Broadwell? The cigar company?” That explained the smell. Katherine never grew up around that brand; the men in her family always purchased their cigars from abroad, usually France, or Hungary if her father was feeling nostalgic. “What do you do there?”

“Packaging, mostly. I should be up for management soon if I can get that meeting with Stevenson.”

Katherine caught Sarah and David shooting each other a nervous look before going back to their food. Their brother remained oblivious.

“Then you’ll be the boss, right Papa?”

A crease formed in Sarah’s brow. “Why would anyone want to be a boss, Les? Bosses are rude and pushy, it’s in their name, right? Nobody likes to get bossed around.”

Her brother shook his head. “In dime novels the girl always marries the boss. Even if she likes him before, they don’t get together until he makes good.” He said this factually, as he dished the floating vegetable around in his bowl.

“Girls don’t go for bosses in real life. They like someone who can get along with others, right Katie?” Sarah gave Katherine a meaningful look.

Katherine coughed down her soup, trying not to think about how much that statement contradicted her own parents’ marriage. The first image that came to mind when she thought of a ‘Boss’ was her father. Then Dana, who had sent her a telegram last week requesting her to start wearing looser fitting blouses when she returned to the office, as her ‘assets’ had apparently been distracting her coworkers. And finally Frank, who struck a sense of fear in her so powerful it was nearly impossible to describe. Sarah might just have a point.

“You’re sister’s right. Girls don’t really go for bosses.”

* * *

“I hope we weren’t too much for you.” It was past nine when Sarah finally offered to walk Katherine upstairs.

“Your family? They were all wonderful.”

Walking through the hallways, Katherine took glimpses into other, smaller worlds. Families chatting, babies crying, the belated panting of a couple who weren’t as covert as they thought were. The pain in Katherine’s joints had subsided, and she felt a little bit like she was floating on air. It must be the cooking. Or the wine. She felt like she could say anything, do anything, and the consequences would never come.

“That bed in the corner, was that yours?”

Sarah’s hand paused on the bannister at the end of the third floor. “The bed?”

“The one in the kitchen.”

“Oh, that one! No, it’s my brothers’.”

“Which one?”

Sarah shot her a confused look. “Both.”

“Right.” Katherine’s insides were heated with embarrassment again. She was getting way too comfortable for her own good.

They had finally reached her floor, and Katherine could see a pale light flooding through her doorway.

“Oh no, my cousin’s home. He’s probably worried sick.”

Sarah nodded knowingly. “I’ll leave you be, just-“ She hesitated, then reached out and gently grasped Katherine’s hand. “Thank you for coming tonight. And for listening to me. This was the most bearable shabbat I’ve had in a long time.”

The corners of her mouth turned upward, and Katherine looked deep into her eyes. They were brown. How had she never noticed that before?

Another sudden wave of emotion over took her.

“Stay here.” Katherine quickly rushed into the room, ignoring Denton’s protests of ‘do you know what time it is?’ and began to dig through one of the open crates. She found what she needed, then ran back into the hallway where Sarah was.

“Here, you should borrow this.”

It was _Innocents Abroad_. First Edition. Sarah started to back away.

“Oh no, I really shouldn’t…”

“No, I insist! You can give it back when you’re done. Like when you were in school. But… I’d like to talk to about it afterwards. To see how you liked it and everything”

Sarah’s eyes turned wet, and she looked away for a moment. She gingerly took the book, rubbing her finger over the engraving on the spine. Then she wrapped Katherine in an embrace.

“You’re a true friend Siegel.” Giving one last squeeze, she tucked the book under her arm and began back down the hallway.

Katherine watched her until she was long gone down the stairs. Her eyes lingered on the spot where Sarah once was, trying to reclaim that last moment with her over a over again, and let the pure emotion of it all flood through her. She didn't stop to consider whether it was unnecessary or not. 

That really didn't seem to matter anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand now we're all caught up! Again, if you want to read the first draft of this, you can find it in the writing page of my tumblr. The chapters after this will be all new, so please feel free to let me know what you think so far! Comments make my day (and it's still tchnically my birthday week so it would be be the best present ever <3 <3 <3)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for anti-semitism, physical abuse, and discussion of death and the grieving process. 
> 
> This one's a doosy guys.

The telegram sat starkly against the battered surface of the kitchen.

Katherine could hear Denton innocently clacking on his typewriter through the closed door of the bedroom. He knew her well enough to know that any work mail he brought back from the office needed to be presented as soon as possible. 

He also knew her well enough to be out of the way when anything remotely related to her family came up. 

She picked up the offending paper, wincing as she read the moniquer.

 

_Katherine,_

_Your presence is requested tomorrow at six o’clock. Sharp._

                                                                                _Try to bring a good attitude._

_Lovingly,_

_Mother_

“I don’t believe her!” Katherine slammed into the bedroom, waving the telegram in the air. “She can’t just spring an invitation like this on me, she knows I have a work schedule!” 

“Well, that’s not exactly true, Kath.” Denton blinked through his bifocals. “She doesn’t know you’re here. I mean she doesn't know you're  _here_ here” 

He got up from his desk chair for a closer look. “See, she says it’s a ‘request’. It’s not like she’s forcing you at knife point.”

“You don’t know my mother Denton,” Katherine growled as she snatched the letter from his hand. “Request is just another word for demand in her book. She’s practically the encyclopedic definition of ‘passive aggression’.”

She crumpled the paper and tossed it into the wastepaper basket. Feeling satisfied, she flopped back onto her cot, ignoring the sharp creak of the bed frame underneath her spent body. 

“If I leave right after my shift, that should get me enough time to get back to my apartment and change before dinner begins. Maybe Darcy can come. Do you think you can contact him for me?”

Denton cautiously looked up from his typewriter. “Wait, so you are going tomorrow?”

Katherine nodded faintly as she rubbed the corners of her eyes. “If my mother is this tense in July, God knows how she’ll be by Christmas. If I can offset that stress, it’ll be much easier for when we’ll have to spend time with each other. And it’ll be nice to get away from all of this-”

And she gestured to the bare, beaten down furniture, the stain on the wall, the shouting from the street peddlers below.

“Even if it’s just for a little while. ” 

Denton snorted and returned to his typing. “Let me know how that goes for you, Kath.”

She stared blearily at the wastepaper basket, feeling slightly guilty, but for what she wasn’t quite sure.

* * *

The telegram remained Katherine’s one point of interest, keeping her up well into the night and following her to work the next day. She was so deep in thought she barely noticed the other girls, even Sarah, who was surprisingly taciturn. Her coworkers seemed to be in some sort of silent agreement, constantly shooting looks and nodding to each other. At midday break Rachel abruptly packed away her lunch, gave the other girls a pointed look, and started making her way back to the sweatshop, with Shayna and Rivka close at her heels.

Now only Katherine and Sarah were left. 

“Uh, Katie? Can we talk?”

Katherine shrugged, still looking back at the other girls fading through the factory doors. “Sure, what about?” 

“Well,” Sarah paused, then thrust her hand into her apron pocket. “I know it’s been a little while since you moved into the building, but the girls and I decided to get you a little house warming present.” 

She pulled out a small, square parcel. It was slightly lumpy, and weighed down significantly in Katherine’s hand. Sarah pointed to the label.

“It’s Peach Soap, see? We all pooled some of our funds together and went to the drugstore, the really nice one on the corner of Orchard.”

Katherine held it up to her nose. Yep, definitely peaches. It smelled like the discount version of the brand used in the ladies’ washroom at The World office. 

“Oh. Well, thank you Sarah, that’s really sweet of you. All of you, I mean. Why did the others leave? I want to thank them too.” 

“They decided to start work early.” Sarah replied, almost too casually. “And…well… there’s something else…” 

Katherine furrowed her brow. It was not like Sarah to be this vague. “You’re not in trouble, are you? Is everything alright at home?”

“Me? Everything’s fine at home, trust me. Or normal, at least.” Another pause. “My family really loved you. They want you to come over again for Shabbat, if you like. You can even bring your cousin… sorry, what’s his name again?”

 

“Uh, Bryan.” Katherine’s insides squirmed.

“Bryan?” Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Alright, Bryan. Bring Bryan over next time. And we’re usually done with our washing on Friday, so you can borrow our tub if you like.”

Their tub? That came out of nowhere. Katherine tried not to act taken aback. “Oh. That’s really sweet of you Sarah… but I don’t really need a tub.”

Sarah frantically shook her head. “It wouldn’t be any trouble at all. I talked it over with Mama-“

“Talked over _what_ with your mother?”

“-and she said it would be fine. We can even create a schedule if you like, I don’t want you to think you’re imposing on us or anything-“

“Sarah-” 

“Maybe you could stop by sometime after work, even this afternoon if you like, and we can talk it over together-” 

“Sarah!”

“Yes?”

The younger girl was looking at her so sincerely. Katherine chose her words as carefully as possible. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’m fine. I don’t need a tub, at least not right now.” 

There was a pause, and Sarah sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Yes you do.” She paused to look back at the factory doors. “ _We_ all think so.”

The realization slowly dawned on Katherine as a blush crept through her cheeks. The soap felt like a rock in her hand. 

“Did Rachel put you up to this?” 

“What? No, this isn’t about Rachel, we’ve all been talking-”

“You mean gossiping about how I smell? Making jokes behind my back?”

“We’re just concerned! There’s no shame in admitting you might need some help-”

“I don’t want your help!”

That came out a lot louder than Katherine had expected. Clusters of girls shot them nervous looks and whispered to each other. Sarah stared solemnly at the ground, her expression unreadable. 

“Fine. Don’t take it. I’ll see you inside.”

Before Katherine could get another word in Sarah had swiped the bar from her hand and began towards the factory, her free hand in a fist at her side. She felt the urge to say something, to shout out to Sarah before she disappeared through the doors. But nothing would come out. The bell rang, and the other girls quickly packed up their belongings and began to follow Sarah in. 

Katherine exhaled sharply, counted to ten, and wiped away any stray tears that might’ve slipped through her eyes. Then, she too left the courtyard.

* * *

It had never really occurred to her before just how big the Pulitzer mansion truly was. She felt intimidated by its vastness; its heaving limestone and three stories of windows, all staring down in judgement like a million sets of unblinking eyes. The house sat squatly in the middle of an already overstuffed neighborhood, as if daring someone to try and move it. 

In the past, it had all been normal to Katherine. Now it felt obscene. 

She took the back entrance inside, nodding keenly to the maintenance man as she entered the second floor. She had changed into one of her evening dresses back at her real apartment, and it was almost refreshing how differently she was treated in one of her old jet set frocks. She could practically sneak into any Park Avenue mansion at this point and no one would blink an eye. She had also liberally dosed herself with perfume before heading out the door. Sarah and the others were wrong, of course. Katherine had perfect hygiene. She practically came out of the womb with perfect hygiene. Just because the apartment didn’t have a tub, or that she occasionally struggled with getting the faucet to work in the hallway, didn’t mean she needed anyone’s charity. But if a bunch of factory girls thought she smelled, tonight’s guests would be a lot more critical. 

She was almost halfway to her bedroom when she heard a small gasp of delight. Before she could turn around, two delicate arms snaked their way around her and embraced her from the side. She knew better than to move. Katherine Davis Pulitzer may have been petite, but there was always a hint of steel hidden underneath those silk puffs. 

“My dear, it’s been too long!”

Katherine quietly clenched her teeth as the hug surpassed the thirty second mark.

“It’s good to see you too, mother.”

She was finally released as Kate Sr. began to look her over. She made a small tutting sound. 

“You’ve gotten too thin, darling. And are those stress lines? This is why I didn’t want you to take that office job, they must be working you like a man over there.”

Katherine bit her tongue. 

“I’m a journalist, mother, they don’t keep me in the office very much anymore. I’m mostly doing field work now.” 

“Well, that certainly explains your smell.” 

Before Katherine could respond, she was taken by the crook of her arm and led down the staircase as her mother continued.

“It’s not that we all don’t admire what you’re trying to do, but dear, you’re turning old before your time. Did you know the Marshall girl got engaged last month? To a Burnett, no less! I tell you, with the way things are going, there won’t be any eligible bachelors left by the time you turn twenty.”

Katherine was about to quip back when she saw a smiling, familiar face at the bottom of the starecase. 

“Darcy!”

She ran down the last few steps and practically leapt into her friend’s arms. He embraced her with a grin.

“How are you doing, Kath?”

“Much better, now that you’re here.”

“Aw gee, has it really been that bad?” He looked so genine behind those round spectacles, Katherine could practically kiss him. She looked back at her mother and whispered in his ear.  “You have no idea.” She waited until she saw her mother’s backside halfway down the hallway before continuing. “Do you think they’re trying to set us up again?” 

Darcy gave her a wink. “The question is not _if_ they’re trying to set us up. The question is, rather, do we give them the hope again that we might?”

Katherine snorted into her sleeve and tried to pass it off as a cough. Darcy linked his arm in hers and began to ecourt her into the parlor room. He kept his voice low. 

“So, Denton tells me the two of you are in an interesting living situation.”

“Interesting is one word for it. It’ll be worth it though, by the end of the summer we’re going to have our byline on the first page of The Sun.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you this determined in a while. Or looking this tired. Is Dana still treating you like a workhorse?”

“Oh, trust me, Dana is the least of my worries right now-”

Katherine’s voice got lost somewhere in her throat. They had made it through the awning of the room, and her gut did a sudden backflip at the realization of where she was. The main parlor room on the east side of the mansion had always remained one of her biggest anxieties. Everything there, from the too stiff antique chairs to the black, gaping fireplace brought back the worst memories. It was where she found out she was being sent to boarding school. Where her father had torn her a part after he found her resume for The Sun. Where he demanded she’d leave this house for good after accepting the position. 

This was where she had found out that Lucy had died.

Now her father stood in the center of the room by the fireplace, flanked on either side by several of his yes men, those semi important business types that liked to spend time in the Pulitzer household for the sake of clout. He turned and gave a cold, half grin.

“Ah, Katherine. How good of you to join us.” 

Joseph Pulitzer looked exactly as he’d been six months ago; maybe a little more grey around the edges, and his eyes were squinting more and more as his sight was failing him, but he still could cut an impressive figure. Katherine once thought that one day she’d get to a place in her life where her father’s presence no longer affected her. Now here she was, a legal adult and career woman with more independence than she ever hoped to dream of, and she was still utterly terrified of her father. Eighteen years onward, and his stare never ceased to make her feel small. 

“Hello, father.”

Amongst the mounting tension, Kate Sr. gave a brisk clap. 

“Well, now that we’re all here, I think now would be a splendid time to begin dinner! Minnie’s made us a nice salmon with asparagus. Why don’t you lead the way dear?” She sent a meaningful glance to her husband. Pulitzer nodded curtly to his wife and began to exist the room.

Darcy gently nudged her as the others followed. “Kath, are you feeling alright? I can make an excuse if you want to get some air.”

Katherine’s instinct was to jump at the offer. But a sharp pain in her stomach held her back. The last good meal she had was at the Jacobs’, and in her current state, she was in no position to give up food. Especially Minnie’s asparagus.

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with.” 

* * *

Katherine really needed to relearn how to pace herself. From the moment the first salad was served, it took every ounce of her self control not to wolf down everything on her plate. Or slip a dinner roll in her purse for later. 

She had never experienced hunger like this before; at least not something this profound. She knew she hadn’t been eating well for the past couple of weeks, but she hadn’t realized before how truly deprived she was. Three square meals on a factory salary had shaped up to be much more difficult than she thought; trying to navigate the lower east side markets with close to no knowledge of Yiddish was nearly impossible. She had been subsiding on sardines and crackers for almost a month, with the Shabbat meal with the Jacobs’ being the one, sweet exception. She was so enthralled in her meal, she hardly noticed the conversation happening around her.

“...The important thing is to make sure that McKinley wins the re-election. He stays in office, and the gold standard stays up.” This came from one of her father’s many Yes Men.

“Still trying to pay off that yacht, are we Charles?” Another one of the Yes Men, trying to one up the first.

The rest of the table laughed, and Charles took a deep sip from his brandy.

Joseph Pulitzer readjusted his spectacles. “McKinley is far too chummy with Roosevelt for my taste. We don’t know for sure if the Republicans have our best interests at heart.”

Whitelaw Reid shook his head. “Roosevelt, Roosevelt, Roosevelt. I swear Joseph, you need to put these petty grievances aside. He’s a local politician. Being close with McKindley doesn’t mean he’s going to try for the federal level.”

Whitelaw Reid always seemed to be the only one who could best Katherine’s father in debate. Likely because he was the only one whom Pulitzer felt was on his level.

“He might though.” Yes Man Number Two piped in. “Teddy’s an ambitious man. And didn’t McKindley offer him a White House position a few years ago?”

“Which he then declined to join the Rough Riders. Really, the man’s career is spotless. You just don’t like him Joseph because the voters still chose him even after all those editorials you put out. They listen to him more than they do to you.”

Darcy and Katherine shared an anxious look. It never ended well when their father’s bumped heads.

Pulitzer sneered. “Did you know he wants to outlaw football, Whitelaw? He believes it’s too violent.”

Charles nodded fervently, hoping for a way to edge back into the conversation. “Mark my words, that man is going to turn socialist any day now. And when it comes to that, well, who knows what’s going to happen? Open borders, our taxes going to all the bums and layabouts, universal education-”

“What’s wrong with universal education, Mr. Helmsford?” The words came out before Katherine could stop them. The dinner table turned deathly quiet. Charles turned to her in surprise.

“Well, Miss Pulitzer, it’s really quite simple. If we go around giving benefits away with no cost, nothing will be earned. And with education especially, there’s really no point to it at all. We spend thousands of our hard earned money to go to public schools, and for what? So some brat can learn to sign his name before going off to the factory for the rest of his life?” 

He paused to take another sip of his brandy. Katherine’s hands were balled into fists, the edges of her nails stabbing into the soft of her palms. 

“And really, do _they_ even really want it? If you look at the drop out rates, most of these children leave before they even get to high school.”

“To what alternative, Mr. Helmsford?” It was now taking every inch of Katherne’s self control not to throw her wine glass across the table. “Slaving in factories all day? Doing nine hour shifts and being maimed by the machinery? Being at the mercy of demeaning men who-” 

Charles rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating, Miss Pulitzer. This is the industrial age, machines are safer than they ever were before. If the workers don’t have the intelligence to handle a simple cotton mill, then maybe they’re better off not getting any schooling.”

“And it wouldn’t make much of a difference, would it?” Not to be outdone, Yes Man Number Two chimed in. “Some of these types, well… it isn’t so much breeding as it is good ol’ fashion natural selection. In certain parts of Europe; Ireland, south of Italy, that whole eastern part…” 

He paused, waiting to see if he’d crossed a line. Pulitzer raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. It gave the courage for Number Two to continue. 

“It’s clear that they’re just not at the same level as you or I! Take those pants pressers from Poland, or, or Russia! You do wonder sometimes how stupid you have to be to be a poor Jew. Why, money’s practically in their blood-”

"May I be excused?” Katherine shot up, the full effect of the meal lurching through her body. She felt like she was going to vomit.

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “No, you may not.” 

“Then I’ll just excuse myself then.” Katherine picked up her skirts and pushed her chair aside. As she marched through the hallway, heart pounding, she could hear the dainty footsteps of her mother close behind.

“Katherine Ethel Pulitzer! Go back in there and apologize immediately!”   

Something broke in her as she turned around to face her mother. “You’re right; forgive me mother for not wanting to spend another minute with those disgusting, boarish-”

“-stop that now-”

“-ignoramus, stuffed shirted, up their own-”

Slap!

Katherine stumbled back, a hand clinging to her stinging cheek. Her mother’s arm was still raised, her face like stone, as if she too was shocked by what she had just done. 

Katherine got her breath back under control, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’re talking about father. You know that, right? And not just him, _all_ his children. They’re talking about _your_ family mother, and the two of you just _sit_ there and let it happen!” 

A delicate gloved hand gripped her shoulder with such intensity Katherine bit her lip in pain. 

“You listen to me. Your father is an exception. _You_ are an exception. And this family will stay an exception so long as we stay polite and don’t pick our battles over petty grievances.”

Katherine tried to shrug her mother’s hand aside. “That was not a petty grievance, mother, that was bigotry.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Bigotry, really? I suppose you would know. What exactly did your Mr. Dana call your father in last month’s editorial? _Judas Pulitzer?”_

Her eyes narrowed further, and Katherine’s chest felt tight with shame.

“Don’t think you’re just as complicit in this as we are. Everything we have, everything you own, it’s because your father knows what he needs to do to survive in this damned world. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And he doesn’t need his renegade daughter to ruin what he’s built up for years.”

Katherine felt dead on her feet. Like any sudden movement, any breeze might knock her over. For the first time in her life she struggled to find the right words. 

“Why did you bring me here?”

Her mother sighed, letting her face decompress. She looked older, much older than her forty six years. “I needed you to- We both thought that-” She paused to regain herself. 

“Come with me.”

* * *

That door. 

Katherine could barely feel her feet on the carpet as her mother guided her down the hallway. She felt sick to her stomach. 

She promised herself she’d never look at that door again. 

Kate Sr. busied herself with the keys. Just why they had taken the time to put a lock on, after everyone had silently vowed to never go into that room again, was anyone’s guess. Maybe it was to solidify the matter. Or to make sure a harsh breeze didn’t knock it in. It pushed open easily with a strong creak, and her mother took a candle from a nearby table to light the way in. 

Everything was coated in the soft film of dust. The armour, the washstand, the canopy bed with the light blue coverlet all sat dejectedly, waiting to be used. The curtains were drawn. Had she been the one to do that? Or had someone else done it, so she could spend a few more moments at her bedside. Katherine couldn’t remember. 

Her mother opened the oak engraved wardrobe with firm pull. 

“I want you to look through Lucille’s things.”

Katherine’s mouth went dry. “This is why you brought me here?”

“I tried to get Constance and Edith to come as well, but it’s been so hard to get the family together. I’d thought, since you’re the oldest, maybe if we could start together. Then the other girls might be more inclined-”

“Goodnight Mother.”

“Katherine, please-”

“I said, goodnight Mother.”

“We can’t keep running away from this!”

Katherine had never seen her mother look so tired before. She averted her eyes from her soft, pleading face. 

The wardrobe’s doors hung open like a palsied tongue, revealing all she didn’t want to see; her favorite pink summer dress, her bathing suit with the navy ruffles, the wedding gown their grandmother had promised her for her own ceremony one day. Every memory, every future dream that never happened called out to Katherine. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, to beat her fists against her chest and rip out her hair and collapse on the floor. 

Instead, she turned back to her mother and glared.

“Why shouldn’t we, we don’t confront anything else in this family. Why should Lucy be any different?”

She dabbed at her eyes briefly, and turned towards the door. “Tell Minnie the salmon was excellent, as always. I’ll see you at Christmas.”

She left before her mother had a chance to respond.

* * *

The world blurred around her faster and faster as Katherine made her way back to the apartment. The scenery seemed to flip like stills in the moving picture; the open, grassy street became the trolley, the trolley became the tighter, more compressed streets, which slowly filled with more people, more sounds, more smells, more debris. Katherine felt separate from it, watching the lives of everyone else play out before her as if from a screen. Nothing was real. Nothing felt real.

Denton’s snores sent soft vibrations through the apartment as Katherine gently opened the door. On the table where the telegram had been, now sat the bar of soap Sarah had given her earlier that day. A note had been hastily planted next to it, written in neat, somewhat loopy handwriting-

_Sorry_

A small heart was drawn underneath.

Katherine held the bar up to her nose, letting the cheap peach smell wash over her. She unwrapped the paper, and took it to the spigit in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always the best <3 <3 <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Content Warning for an explicit depiction of sexual harrassment early on in the chapter. This part is bracketed off with ******** for those want to skip it. Content warning also for anti semitism, discussion of death and the grieving process.

_One hundred and sixty two, one hundred and sixty three, one hundred and sixty four-!_

Katherine’s needle sunk deep into the off brand suede and jammed itself between the seams, leaving it unable to budge. She tugged at it, aggravating the needle further and causing a nasty rip to slice through the seam. She quickly darted her fingers out of the way before they could share a similar fate.

“Damn!”

“Katie, don’t cuss! It isn’t ladylike!” Rivka admonished from across the table.

“But I-” Katherine was not in the mood to be lectured to by a thirteen year old. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone really. The disastrous dinner with her family had left Katherine in a state of disarray. Her already testy sleep schedule became virtually non existent, her diet whitted down to saltines and whatever leftovers Sarah brought over from her mother’s cooking. The two girls had come to a quiet agreement to leave the peach soap fiasco behind them, and had resumed their daily literature talks. Sarah turned out to be a surprisingly fast reader, and was heading towards the end of Innocents Abroad. Katherine wouldn’t be surprised if she was at the Odessa chapters by now. 

She had planned to ask her, but Sarah hadn’t come in yet. In fact, it was now nearly nine, and Sarah hadn’t come in at all. 

“They’ll dock you for that.” Rachel was leaning over to inspect Katherine’s ruined handiwork. “It’s a wonder you get paid at all with all your screw ups. How do ever manage to make rent when Sarah isn’t around?” 

“Don’t worry about my pay girls,” Katherine muttered as she tried to untangle the ruined thread. “I make it work.”

Rivka gasped in delight. “Do you have a beau? I bet he helps pay!”

Katherine nearly choked on the dusty air. “Rivka, I do not have a beau. I live with my cousin, he helps out.”

Shayna scrunched her nose in confusion. “What is this ‘beau’? Like on hair?”

Rivka snorted into her sewing. “Honestly Shayna, you can be such a greenhorn sometimes.” She took another half finished glove and expertly slipped it through her machine. “A beau is your sweetheart, a boy that admirers you. He gives you flowers and you hold hands together. And then he gives you a huge diamond ring, and you get married!” 

Her needle delicately dotted her last stitch, and Rivka tossed the finished inline seam into the basket like it was the easiest thing in the world.  

“Alright, no more love talk.” Rachel gave another of her signature eyerolls. “If this keeps up I’m gonna be sick-” 

A shadow fell over the table, and Rachel’s demeanor suddenly changed. Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she hunched over her sewing machine as if she was trying to appear as small as possible. All the pigment seemed to leave her face, turning her complexion an ashy grey. 

Katherine turned her head, and there was Frank, looming over the table with a smug grin. 

“Looks like you found yourself in a tough spot, huh girl?” 

***********

He peered over at Katherine’s ruined handiwork, his glove like hand engulfing hers. This had to be done at an odd angle, since he had positioned his body right against Rivka’s back. She too, had gone completely still, as if she were made out of stone. 

It took a moment for Katherine to comprehend what she was seeing. There was a bulge in Frank’s pants. His body was pressed tightly against hers, and he began to rub his crotch slowly up and down her small body. Katherine’s first instinct was to scream. Her second was to ram her elbow into Frank’s beefy side. She took slow and steady breaths, and tried to think quickly.“We’re … I’m fine over here, thank you sir. Just a little trouble with the needle.”

Frank gave her a toothy grin. “Oh, thank god, I forgot you were a naturalized yid. See, some men like them all foreign and stupid, but me,” He cupped his hand under Katherine’s chin. “I love it when they understand every word I say.” 

Her mouth as now as dry as paper. She tried to think of something, anything to say. Anything to make it stop. She jutted her hand away from her palm and tried to get her breathing back under control. 

“…Like I said sir, we’re just fine over here.”

***********

Frank raised an eyebrow. He gave another glance at Katherine’s station, and to everyone’s relief, took his body off of Rivka’s.

“That’ll coming out of your pay. Keep this up and you’ll be another Chava. Let me know when I need to put out another job ad.”

He gave one last look towards Rivka, who was now trembling, and rubbed the overlap where his two front teeth met with a grubby forefinger. The girls waited until they heard the office door on the other side of the room slam shut, and exhaled an identical sigh of relief. Katherine reached over and squeezed Rivka’s hand.

“How are you doing?” 

“ _‘How is she doing?’_ How can you ask such a stupid question?” All eyes shot to Rachel, who seemed to have regained her footing again. Her face was now as red as her hair, and she looked like she could spit bile at any moment.

Katherine sat up a little straighter and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t see anyone else comforting her. I figured it was the least I could do.”

Oh that’s rich, coming from you. Since your crappy sewing was what brought him over in the first place!”

“You’re blaming me for this? Are you insane? How could you ever think that I wanted-!”

The entrance flew open, bringing in a stream of light with it. Sarah marched briskly through the door, basket pressed against her hip. Her usual high pompadour was lopsided, with one pin hanging on for dear life by only a few strands of hair. On closer inspection, Katherine could see that her face was flushed and her nose was rubbed pink. She quickly rubbed her eyes before setting her basket down and flopping on the remaining chair.

“Geez Jacobs, were you get hit by a trolley on the way over?” Rachel raised an eyebrow. It was as if the argument only a few moments ago had never happened. 

“I’m not in the mood today, Rachel.” Sarah sniffled and rubbed her eyes again. 

Katherine looked from her to Rachel, who bit down on her lip and scowled as she took another unfinished glove. Shayna, whose face was as white as a sheet. Rivka, whose hands shook as she replaced the thread. 

She fought the urge to sprint straight out of the room and leave all this behind her. It was all so much; too much to deal with. And the day was far from over.               

* * *

Katherine made sure to corner Sarah during midday break, leading her away from the others before another fight broke out. 

“What happened to you this morning?”

Sarah groaned. “I was about to ask you the same thing. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Katherine wasn’t sure if she wanted to share what happened with Rivka. Or if she even if she could at all. 

“I’ll tell you later…you go first.”

Sarah gave a shaky sigh and rubbed the corners of her damp eyes. “Me and David…we got into a fight this morning.” 

She ran a stressed finger through her hair before continuing. “He couldn’t find one of his textbooks, and he was running late, so when he found it under my bed….he got mad. Said that I’ve been jealous of him since he started high school, and that I should stop being so resentful, on and on and on …” Sarah bit down on her bottom and looked away, tears flooding her eyes. “So I said, he’s lucky he’s a boy, since it makes up for how stupid he is. Told him, I’m not jealous, I just feel bad that he has to embarrass himself at that ritsy school where everyone laughs at him behind his back all day. Our mom had to seperate us before things got really bad.” 

Sarah wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and Katherine handed her a handkerchief. She rubbed her face with it vigorously. “Thanks. What was going on this morning? You all looked miserable.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “Everybody but Rachel. You should have heard her this morning! Frank came over and…” 

She faltered, trying to find the right words. There was no language to truly describe what had happened that morning. And even if there was, Katherine didn’t know if she had the courage to say it.  

“…he was picking on Rivka. But when he left Rachel turned the whole thing on me. She had the nerve to say I brought him over! Can you believe it? The utter gaul of her…” 

Sarah suddenly looked very tired. “That shouldn’t have been pinned on you, I’m sorry. But you can’t take what Rachel says to heart. She’s very…” She started twisting the handkerchief around in her hands, and Katherine wondered if she too didn’t have the right language to explain what was happening in the factory.  “… Frank is a sore issue for her. When she gets into a mood like that, you just gotta ignore it.” 

"Believe me, I’ve been trying. But that girls has had eyes after me since I started here. I at least have the right to know what her problem is.”

“She picks on you because you’re new, and you’re inexperienced. And the rest…” Sarah dabbed her eyes one last time and gave the hankie back to Katherine, gently placing it back in her hand and folding her fingers on top. “It isn’t really my place to tell. She’ll come around to you, I know it. Just give her some time…” Sarah paused, and squinted past Katherine’s gaze. Her eyes locked with the gate on the other side of the courtyard. “Oh great. What does he want?”

Katherine craned her neck and saw the unmistakable lanky figure of David Jacobs. He seemed out of breath, and was pacing sporadically back and forth on the other side of the gate.

Sarah groaned and rubbed the crease between her brows. “What in the world is he doing here? He’s supposed to be in school.”

“Maybe he wants to apologize?”

“Doubt it. Whatever it is, I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

Katherine gently squeezed the younger girl’s shoulder. 

“I’ll talk to him.”

Venturing closer to the gate, it was clear that something was wrong. David was panting as if he had just ran a marathon, and his cloth cap was clutched tightly between his white knuckles. 

She wrapped her hands around one of the bars and peered gently through them. “Uh, David? I don’t think Sarah’s ready to talk right now. I can give her a message if you like.”

“No, Katie, it’s not about-” He ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Listen, tell her I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, and I’ll make it up any way I can. Just tell her to come over now. Please, it’s an emergency.”

As soon as Katherine gestured Sarah walked briskly to her side. Her expression veered between angry and concerned. “David, what’s going on?”

“It’s Dad, he’s in the hospital.” 

Hospital. Katherine knew the dread that came with that word. She could see Sarah turning pale. 

“What happened?” 

“There was an accident at work, something with a… a… delivery truck? We’re still not completely sure. But the doctor says he needs surgery, and mom wants everyone there before he goes in so-” 

Before Sarah could respond the bell rang out over the courtyard. The factory’s doors opened and groups of girls began milling back inside. Sarah looked back nervously.

“Go. I’ll cover for you.” The words came out of Katherine’s mouth before she could stop them. Sarah looked at her in shock. 

“Are you sure?”

“You need to be with your father right now. I’ll explain to the others.” 

Sarah looked like she was about to say something, but stopped herself. Instead she wrapped Katherine in a long hug, and whispered softly in her ear, “Thank you.” 

And then she gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Katherine was too startled to say anything as she watched Sarah push through the gates and run off down the street, hand in hand with her brother. 

She went back to the factory in a trance, half walking, half floating in a state of bizarre joy. She almost didn’t notice her coworkers staring as she sat down. 

“Hey Siegel, what happened to Sarah? We all saw her running off that brother of hers.” Rachel, of course, was always the first to speak. Katherine grabbed the wicker basket from Sarah’s station. 

"Their father’s in the hospital, he was hurt at work.” 

She started collected scraps of unused glove and began placing them together. “I’ll be taking over her work load for the rest of the day.” 

“Oh no you won’t.” Rachel’s angular arm grabbed the basket and began to dig through it with her other hand. “You’re not a good enough sewer to handle it on your own. We’ll all pitch in. And make sure he doesn’t notice.” 

She gave a quick glance over to the foreman’s door, then over at Shayna and Rivka, who both nodded fervently. Katherine raised an eyebrow as she watched Rachel divy up the work between herself and the two younger girls. This was a far different Rachel from the one who had cast blame on her this morning. She was tempted to comment on it, but at the second held her tongue. She wanted this moment to last for as long as it could. And who could tell when that would be?

* * *

By the time Katherine left the factory, basket in hand, the shadows on the pavement were long and stretched towards the East River. 

Katherine entered the tenement building cautiously, taking her time on the stairs. Coming to the end of the third floor, she found the Jacobs’ door slightly ajar. Sarah and David sat at the kitchen table, an odd menagie on the surface between them. An old empty coffee tin sat in the middle, it’s top resting beside it. A piece of paper Katherine recognized as a telegram, flipped upside down. In front of David was a pad of paper, and he was scribbling with furious abandon what seemed to be a never ending list of random words and sums. Les was passed on top of the sheets of the corner bed. His shoes were still on. 

Sarah looked up, her eyes damp. “Oh, come in Katie.” 

Katherine cautiously came inside, gently putting the basket beside the door. Sarah pulled out a chair for her.

“Did anyone notice I was gone?”

Katherine shook her head. “Only us girls.” 

She looked over at the table, unsure how much to pry. “Who’s the telegram from.”

Sarah’s face seized up in pain. “Broadwell Cigars. They just fired our Dad.”

“What?” Katherine grabbed the telegram, searching through it for any missed signs. “It hasn’t even been a full day yet, and your father’s been with them for years! Didn’t he say he had a raise coming up?” 

Sarah rubbed her face with the back of her hand. “Papa says a lot things. He’s been working at that place for eighteen years. If they haven’t given him a raise then, they’d be more than happy to let him go now.” 

David looked up from his paper, looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Looking closer, Katherine could see next to the list of sums, words like “Bread” and “Factory??”. 

“How is your father doing?” Better to get that out of the way than skirt around it. 

“He broke his leg in two places. They’ll be bringing him home from the hospital tomorrow.”

“Oh.” A sudden sense of relief flooded Katherine. “Well, that’s not too bad."

Sarah and David looked at her in shock. Katherine's body instantly seized with regret. “I’m sorry, I meant- well, it’s not his spine that’s injured, or his head. I mean, legs can heal rather fast-”

“He won’t be able to walk on his own for a month, Katie. Maybe more. And we don’t know-” 

The door opened again before Sarah could finish. Mrs. Jacobs stood in the doorway, looking as if she aged ten years in a single day. Her elder children scrambled up to meet her. 

“They put his leg in a cast. The doctor says he can walk home, he’ll just need something to lean on.” 

“Can he use a cane?” David led his mother to the nearest chair. “I think one of the families on the second floor might have one.” 

Mrs. Jacobs shook her head. “The hospital said he could borrow one of their crutches.”

Sarah snorted. “They better, considering they made us pay upfront.” 

Katherine bit her tongue. Hospitals weren’t supposed to demand the full amount up front. But she wasn’t supposed to know that. 

Mrs. Jacobs nodded at her from across the table. “Hello Katie, I’m sorry you’re not here at a better time.”

“I just stopped by to drop off Sarah’s basket. I’ll be heading out soon…” 

Katherine saw the older woman staring down at the discarded telegram. She picked it up with a small, shaky hand. “Who’s this from?” She peered down at the moniquer. “Cigars? Do they want to help pay?”

Her two older children looked at each other with dread. Katherine wished she was anywhere else but here. David rubbed the bridge of nose and sighed. 

“They let him go Mama. But it’s okay-!” He kept talking before she could react. “That just means they have a new job opening. It’s probably not filled yet! I’m planning on going over tomorrow and asking for Papa’s job.”

Mrs. Jacobs lips pressed themselves into a thin, pink line. “You’ll have to drop out.”

David waved his hands in the air in frustration. “So I’ll drop out! It’s not permanent! Papa will be fine in a couple months and I’ll catch up. Eating is more important than going back there.” 

Katherine needed a way to excuse herself from this conversation. “Speaking of eating, has anyone had supper yet? I can whip something up quick at my place and bring it downstairs.” 

Mrs. Jacobs nodded at her vaguely. “Thank you bubbeleh, that’s very sweet of you.” She turned back to her son. “I don’t want you taking your father’s job.”

“Why not?”

“Your father was nearly killed there. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“The chances of that happening again aren’t likely.”

“I don’t care about chance. I don’t want you going there!”

By the bed, Les began to stir. “Why’s everyone yelling? Is Dad home yet?”

Sarah stood up abruptly. “I’m going to help Katie cook.” She took her by the hand and led her out the door. Katherine could still hear the arguing as the younger girl led her down the hallway.      

* * *

“She doesn’t want him to get hurt? I don’t believe her!” Sarah was chopping potatoes with furious abandon. “My job is just as dangerous as Papa’s, and I’ve never heard her fretting over me that way.” 

She pushed the diced bits onto a plate and sighed. “Where do you keep your bowls?”

Katherine wordlessly pointed to the cabinet on Sarah’s left. She grabbed Denton’s favorite blue ceramic, then felt around the shelves as if she were expecting something else to be there. “Is this your only set?”

Katherine looked up from the cutting board. “Of what?”

“Your dishes.”

Katherine felt like a big question mark had been slapped on her forehead. 

Sarah pushed further.“Your second set… for Shabbat.”

“Oh that!” Think quick Kath! “Well, last month we moved so quickly, I mean… I don’t know if my cousin remembered to pack…”

“You should’ve told me sooner! I can’t believe I haven’t been inviting you every Friday. Some friend I’ve been.” 

“You’ve been a great friend Sarah, don’t disparage yourself.”

“Disparage,” Sarah raised an eye, then broke into a grin. “That’s a ten cent word. I love it when you talk like that, it makes me feel like I’m still in school.” 

Katherine ducked her head down so Sarah wouldn’t see her blush. She tried to distract herself with the food prep, only find herself cutting the last of the carrots. 

“Shoot! I forgot to go to the market today! Do you think any of the stalls are still open?”

Sarah walked to the window and peeked outside. “Maybe if you run. But I’m sure we can work with what have. Or I can go downstairs and get some-”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that. I’m so sorry, I wish I were better at this.” It was becoming more and more difficult for Katherine to conceal her truth. A part of her didn’t really want to. Not when she had Sarah to think of. 

“To be perfectly honest I don’t have a second set of dishes. My father never wanted us to do things like that. And my cousin does most of the shopping.” She looked sadly back at her dejected last carrot. “I’m not a very good cook.” 

Sarah turned away from the window and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sure you’re just fine. I promise, I’ll never complain about a single thing you cook.” She paused. “Well, as long as you don’t give me the runs.” 

Katherine tried to stifle a laugh, but it came out instead as a snort. Sarah joined in, and soon the two girls were full on belly laughing, Sarah clutching her side, and Katherine pulling out two chairs from the kitchen table before the two of them could fall on the floor. Sarah accepted hers gracefully, wiping away a few stray tears before plopping down. “I’m not so great of a cook myself. The first time Mama taught me how to make challah, I mixed up the salt with the sugar. That’s a mistake I’ll never make again. The pigeons liked it though. At least I think.” 

Katherine nodded. “At least it didn’t go to waste. When I was nine my sister and I tried to make a souffle on our own and we almost burned down the kitchen.”

“Your sister? I remember you mentioned her some time ago. Is she with the rest of your family?”

The words came out before Katherine could stop them. “No, she died a year and a half ago.” 

The world seemed to stop. It was as though Katherine had gutted open her stomach and poured out the insides. There was no pretense between them, no lies or half truths or vague statements that could be interpreted in a million different ways. She was no longer Katie Siegel, or even Katherine Plumber. Sarah stared directly, sadly, compassionately into her eyes; and she stared back as Katherine Pulitzer. 

“I’m so sorry.” Time began again, and Katherine felt Sarah’s hand on top of hers. “I can’t imagine how painful that must be.” 

"My mother wanted me to go through her things.” She barely spoke above a whisper. “I just couldn’t do it. It’s not just her dresses, I felt like I was throwing all of her away. All the memories, all the-” Katherine stopped herself. She was unsure if it was because she was saying too much, or because she couldn’t continue at all. “People told me it would get better in time, but it doesn’t really. It just becomes more bearable. Like a toothache. I’m sorry, I must sound so ridiculous-”

Sarah gave her hand a squeeze. “You don’t sound ridiculous. These things take time. Especially clothes. My mom never threw out any of our old baby things, even after all the ones she lost.” 

“Ones she lost? You mean miscarriages?”

“Some.” Sarah hesitated. “… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… we were talking about your sister… and it’s not really my place to say…”  Her eyes fell to lap. “Let’s just say there’s a reason why David and Les are six years apart.”

This time it was Katherine who tightened her grip around Sarah’s hand. 

“…there was one before Les, a girl. We really though she’d make it. Cried normally and everything. But a couple months later…”  Sarah’s shoulder’s trembled. “I found her. Her face was blue. The midwife said that happens sometimes, when the baby’s that young. It just happens.” She inhaled sharply. Katherine wanted to hug her again, to wrap her arms around her and never let go. But she stopped herself.

“It is like that sometimes.” She fought the urge to stroke her face.

“You know,” Sarah gave a shaky laugh. “I thought my father was going to die today.”

“I know. I’m glad he’ll make it.”

“Seeing him there unconscious… I was so scared. I… I didn’t want the last time he saw me to be when me and David were fighting.”

Katherine paused. “Now you have the chance.”

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” Sarah attempted a smile. She looked incredibly tired. “I don’t how how I’ll be able to handle the next month.” 

“When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I usually write.”“You what?” Sarah raised her head again, looking confused. A sense of dread lurched in Katherine’s stomach.

 “Well, nothing formal or anything. When I was younger I’d find old newspapers or scraps of tissue and write down all the things I couldn’t say out loud. And then I’d hid it under my pillow at night. I’d feel better afterwards. Usually.”

“Huh. Under your pillow? I might have to try that out sometime.” Sarah stood up and straightened her skirts. “I’m gonna check on my family. Promise not to burn down the building when I’m away?” 

Katherine stuck out her tongue, and Sarah laughed and headed towards the door. She paused as she put her hand on the knob. “You sister, what was her name?”

“Oh, uh…” Katherine’s mouth turned dry, and the air seemed to be lost halfway in her throat. 

Sarah shook her head and backed away. “You don’t have to say. I’m sorry for prying. I’ll be back up for the food soon.”

It took all the strength within Katherine to not run after her screaming,

“Lucy! Her name was Lucy! Her name was Lucy, and she would’ve loved you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life <3 <3 <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for blood and mention of sexual assault

It was bizarre to Katherine, how one’s fate could change in the course of a single day. The events played out like a game of dominos, each one spiraling more and more out of control. 

Mr. Jacobs came back from the hospital the next day, limping and leaning on his wife and elder son for support. His foot was propped up in bed with books and a couple of old pillows, and they gave him a belt to bite on when the shot of morphine the doctor had given him had worn off. In the mornings, David and Mrs. Jacobs helped him to the kitchen table, where he would sit all day, reading Yiddish newspapers and smoking cigars. In the evening, they’d help him back to bed, getting him in and out of his clothes with as much discrepancy as possible. Baths and bathroom breaks were now monitored.  

David had gone back to Broadwell against his mother’s wishes, only to find his father’s position had been conveniently filled by the foreman’s nephew. He shoved his school books underneath his bed and sent out telegrams to his teachers explaining the situation. He never heard back from them. 

Mrs. Jacobs took up extra sewing jobs along with her current factory contracts, and soon Sarah was also compensating by adding extra hours at the factory. She was no longer _teyl mol._ With her mother elsewhere it was on her to finish up the orders for the ‘authentic polish lace’, and soon she was doing all nighters by candlelight. Katherine helped out as best she could with coffee (the one thing she excelled at making due to her own late night deadlines) and knocking on her door in the morning so Sarah could be on time for the 8 am shift. 

It was enough. And then the rest of the hospital bills came in. It was decided then that Les too would have to leave school. That left their career prospects even smaller; it was either factory work, which was growing less appealing by the day, or-

“A newsie? They’re going to be newsies?” Katherine balked as she and Sarah punched in their time cards. “I’m sorry, but I cannot imagine David, of all people, becoming a newsie. Or even Les for that matter.”       

“Why not?” Sarah shrugged as she adjusted her basket on her hip. “Think they’re more the shoeshine type?” She gave Katherine a weak smile. 

“You know what I mean.” Katherine tried to choose her words carefully as they made their way through a throng of weary girls to their table. “Newsies are… well, you know. I just don’t think your brothers should be associating with types like that. They’re blunt and crude and-” _take seats away from the paying customers at Jacoby’s_ …

Katherine stopped herself. What was so wrong about newsies making use of Jacoby’s free water policy? And why had that bothered her so much in the past? 

“Don’t worry about my brothers’ morality, I’m sure they’ll manage. The two of them being corrupted by a bunch of street hawkers is the least of my worries right now.” Sarah flopped down in her seat and began to massage her face. The dark circles under her eyes had remained a permanent fixture since her father’s accident.

“I hate being full time.”

“Trust me Sarah, we all know.” Rachel gave an eye roll, no doubt to be the first of many that day. Katherine suppressed the urge to smack her across the face. “You’ve said it at least ten times this week.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was a quota.” Sarah snapped back as she turned on her Singer. 

“Quota?” Shayna looked up from her own machine. 

“Quota means… it’s the amount of something…” Sarah shook her head with frustration. “I can’t explain it right now.”

Katherine quickly jumped in. “You know how we need to put in over two hundred seams a day? That’s a quota.” She spoke calmly and deliberately, hoping she wasn’t coming across as condescending. “Or when you’re making a soup, you need a certain amount of water, a certain amount of salt, vegetables…”

“Or how this factory needs a certain amount of girls if it wants to keep running. We’re a quota too.” Sarah spoke as if realizing something for the first time.

“And we’re not gonna meet ours if Rivka doesn’t get here soon.” Rachel grumbled.

“Oh, she is here.” Shayna looked around the table nervously. “She is in the back throwing up.”

“She’s _what_?”

As if on cue, Rivka rushed through the doors, punching in her time card and quickly joining the table with only moments to spare. Her face was unusually pale, and she was clutching her stomach with a quiet intensity Katherine had never seen before, as if she was keeping a secret. 

“Rivka, you’re not feeling well?”

“I’m fine. My stomach’s just upset. Maybe I had some bad breakfast.”

“She’s been like this all morning when we walked.” Shayna butted in. “And she keeps doing this.” She did a quick pantomime of her friend keeling over in pain.

“That’s not good. Do you think you might have the flu?” Katherine reached over to feel her temple for signs of fever. Rivka quickly swatted her hand away.

“Stop that! I’m not sick, I just want to be left alone!” 

Rivka was lying, that much was clear to Katherine. But here, there were a million reasons to lie. Everyone came with their own struggles, their own burdens, their own battles they needed to hide if they wanted to get through the day. The hardest part, Katherine realized, was knowing which battles to fight. 

* * *

When the bell rang midday for break, Rivka was the first out the door. Katherine quickly followed at her heels. The younger girl leewayed into the alley, then took another sharp turn towards the vacant lot at the back of the building, where she headed straight to the outhouse and slammed the door behind her. Katherine took a deep breath, counted to ten, then walked over and gave a brisk knock on the outhouse door. 

“Rivka, are you alright in there?”

“Go away Katie!” 

Katherine could hear sobbing on the other side of the door. “If you’re sick, you should probably go home.”

“I don’t want to lose my job!”

“We’ll compensate for you; I can put in your time card in and we’ll all chip in on your workload. Like what we did for Sarah.”

“But that’s ‘cause Sarah came back! I want to make as much money as I can now before-” The sobs grew louder, and Katherine resisted the temptation to bust in the door altogether.

“Before what Rivka?” 

The door creaked open a smidge, exposing Rivka’s tear stained face. In her hands were several bloody rags.

“Before I die.” She spoke in just above a whisper. 

“Rivka, what in the world…” Looking closer, Katherine noticed the stains were more brown then pure red. They also smelled different too, like old fish and coffee grinds. And Rivka didn’t seem to have any open wounds...

“Rivka, is that menstruation blood?” The rags were quickly pulled back through the door’s crevice.

“I don’t know what you mean!” 

“I mean, did it come from inside you. Your-” Katherine tried to remember how this conversation had gone with Lucy. “Did it come from… are these from your undergarments?”

She could see a wet chin bob up and down in the doorway. 

“Why, that perfectly healthy! Here-” She untied her apron and maneuvered her way between Rivka and the door. She took the apron to her face, gently wiping her wet cheeks with its frayed edges. To her surprise, Rivka allowed it.

“This is the third time it’s happened. I wanted to tell Mama, but everyone’s been so busy with Goldie and the wedding, I didn’t want to worry them.” Her eyes welled up again and she grabbed hold of the apron herself, stuffing her nose in it and blowing loudly. Katherine tried not to wince.

“Last night, I couldn’t wash without anyone seeing it, so I took a bucket and hid out in the back lot. It was so awful, I didn’t bring a candle with me so I couldn’t see anything, and when I was trying to leave a rat ran over my foot. And I ruined all my undergarments!”

“Here.” Katherine let go of the apron. “Keep this. You can rip it up, put it wherever you need to. After work we'll go to the drugstore, I’ll buy you some sanitary belts.”

Rivka looked at her with big eyes behind her fogged spectacles. “Are you sure? I don’t want you wasting money on me.”

Katherine nodded frantically. “Don’t worry about money with me. I make it work, remember?” She paused. Would this give her away? At this moment, she realized, it didn’t really matter to her anymore. She looked back at the younger girl, who’s bottom lip was still trembling. “But you know... you’re not dying right? Bleeding is perfectly healthy; it happens to all women.”

Rivka glared into the bunched apron in her hands. “Then how come nobody told me?”

“Well…. well, um. It’s a very... private matter? It’s not very polite to talk about…you see...” Katherine did not want to get into the nuances of menstruation etiquette with a thirteen year old. Or all the gory biological details. She lowered her voice. “People don’t like to talk about it... because bleeding means you can have a baby now.”

Rivka’s jaw dropped. “I don’t want to have a baby, I don’t even have a beau yet!”  

“Oh, Rivka-“

Despite herself, Katherine reached out her arms and pulled Rivka into a hug. They stood huddled together for a moment; Rivka sobbing into Katherine chest, and Katherine gently rocking her back and forth, like she used to do for Lucy. When Rivka’s breathing began to stagnate into a normal rhythm again, Katherine released her from her grip. She bent down a bit so the two of them could see eye to eye.

“We have only a couple minutes left of break, do you want to stay here? You don’t have to face the others if you don’t want to.”

“No, we should leave. I don’t want them to worry.”

“When they ask what happened, what do you want me to tell them? I don’t want to say anything without your permission first.”

Rivka looked up at her with a bemused expression. “Just tell ‘em if you like. They’re probably gonna find out about it soon anyways. Everyone finds out about each other’s business in this place eventually.”

* * *

They were immediately swarmed by a gaggle of concerned girls when they got to the front.

“What happened-?”

“You were back there for so long-!”

“You’re bleeding, right?”Rachel said this firmly, more of a statement than a question. One eyebrow was cocked up in a smug position.

Katherine stepped in. “Rivka doesn’t have to answer anything-“ She paused when a small hand gently touched her on the shoulder. Rivka came forward and confirmed with a small, determined nod.

Sarah and Shayna immediately swarmed her in a hug.

“You should’ve told us! You shouldn’t have to deal with that on your own!”

“She didn’t know what it was.” Katherine interjected. “She thought she was dying.”

“Wait, if this has been getting you nauseous, what else have you been dealing with?” asked Sarah. “Cramps, cravings?

Rivka shrugged slowly. “All of it, I guess.”

Sarah wrapped her in another hug. “Oh, bubbelah…”

“If you boil your underthings, the stains will go away.” Shayna said. “I can show you how. And I can show you the mikvah near here.”

“Mind you, that’s your choice. Or, I guess your family’s. Ask your mother about it. Mine doesn’t really bother with it.” Sarah suggested.

“And think of it this way, getting means you’ll start growing a bosom soon. Frank will finally leave alone once you stop looking like a little girl.” Rachel said this all too casually, as if she were discussing the weather.

The group turned deathly silent. 

“Rachel,” Sarah said softly, “Apologize to Rivka.”

“Why? I’m just saying the truth. We all know why Frank keeps leaching on us. It’s a good thing, once Rivka stops being his type we can finally be left alone.”

“It is not Rivka’s fault Frank is a dirty old man.” Shayna snapped.

“I didn’t say it was!” Rachel snapped back. “All I said was-“

“Are you going to apologise or not?” Katherine had never seen Sarah this furious before.

“What are you talking about?” Rachel crossed her arms and stared back defiantly.

“I’m saying you don’t apologise for anything. You don’t apologise to Rivka, you don’t apologise me even though you know what my family is going through right now, you don’t apologise to Katie even though she’s been nothing but nice to you-”

“Get off my back Sarah.”

“-what did you even say when Chava left? _‘Well, at least she’ll get a break from work’!_ My God, I should’ve slapped you then!”

“Then why don’t you? What’s stopping you from smacking me right now?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes.“Because unlike you, I know how to act like a lady.”

Rachel gasped, then lurched forward, grabbing Sarah by her hair. Sarah dug her fingers into her shoulders, and the two of them started at each other in a frenzy. Katherine had never seen anything like it before. Rachel’s arms flailed as she jabbed her fingers into Sarah’s scalp, and Sarah in return pressed in deeper and deeper into the other girl’s flesh, half pushing her away and half forcing her in place. Shouts in three different languages came from all sides of the courtyard, and soon a crowd had formed around them. Shayna was tugging Rachel by her skirts, saying something pleadingly in Yiddish, while Rivka began sobbing again nearby. Thinking fast, Katherine ran into the middle of the circle and tried to push herself between them. 

“Sarah, Rachel, you need to-”

Rachel’s small fist planted itself in the soft of Katherine’s cheek. She stumbled back, clutching her face in shock. Doing her best to ignore to ignore the pain, she switched tactics, coming to Sarah from behind and wrapping her arms around her waist. With Rachel being occupied by Shayna, Katherine turned her around so the two of them were facing, and gript her by the shoulders.

“Sarah, please, calm down, it’s not worth it.”

Sarah’s breath stagnated, and the wild look in her eyes began to fade. She reached out and gently stroked her face.

“You’re bleeding.”

Katherine put a hand to her cheek. It felt wet to the touch. The pain had subsided into a dull throb, and she could feel a bruise beginning to swell near the corner of her lip. She took her hand, and stared deeply into her eyes. She could see the weight of the world in them.

In the distance the bell rang, and time started again.

Rachel ripped herself away from Shayna’s grasp, and shot one last glare towards the girls before she joined the others headed to the factory doors. Sarah broke their gaze, and gently slipped her fingers away from Katherine’s hand. They casually took two steps away from each other as Shayna and Rivka looked back at them. 

Katherine recomposed herself as she addressed the others. “Has this ever happened before?”

Rivka shook her head as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Not like this.”

“Rachel… can be mean. But not a lot. When Chava was here, she could help calm her down.”  Shayna interjected.

“Chava, she was the girl before me, right?” Katherine asked. “What happened to her?”

Rivka and Shayna shot each other a nervous look, turned then back to Katherine. Rivka cautiously stepped forward, Katherie’s apron still clutched in her hands.

“We were actually gonna stop by her place this afternoon. Wanna come along?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you can!!! Even if it's just to say hi!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for injury description and mention of sexual harassment

The neighborhood grew around Katherine like a thicket. Bodies pressed against bodies, pushcarts and their vendors zig zagged through the narrowing gaps like sewing needles, stray dogs with patches of pink skin limped forlornly in the unoccupied spaces where workmen’s boots met with the half dirt, half cobblestone ground. Shayna and Rivka navigated this chaos with ease, but for Katherine it was pure torture. It didn’t help that Sarah decided not to join them at the last minute, leaving her at the whims of two teenage girls who seemed blissfully unaware of her ever increasing anxiety. The three of them finally stopped outside a crumbling row house. A butchery stood to its left, and on its right another row house leaned into it ever so slightly. It looked like a good sneeze could take the whole contraption down. Rivka walked through the doors confidently, with Shayna at her side and Katherine dragging her heels in the back. Every Upper East Side instinct was telling her not to go in there. There must have been at least fifty different health code violations in the foyer way alone. How could the city allow this place to exist? Or, more importantly, how could people live like this?

The staircase squeaked and shuttered under them as Rivka lead the way to the third floor. Noise was all around them. Babies crying, couples fighting. It was much like the noise at Katherine’s other apartment, only now it reverberated and shook their surroundings in the tight, fragile space. The noise never seemed to end, and Katherine realized most of it was coming from the place where Rivka and Shayna were headed towards at the end of the hallway. Only these were not people sounds. This was something else, something inhuman and familiar and getting more grating every day-

“Is that a factory?” Katherine stopped short of the door. Shayna, whose hand was in mid knock, to turned to her. She looked confused, and turned to Rivka for support.

“Not exactly…” Rivka looked nervous. “You can’t say it’s a factory, ‘cause that’s against the law, I guess. Maybe. It’s…. just friends. Who get together and work. It’s like…” She bit her lip in frustration. “Well, you’ve been to the Jacobs’ right? Sarah’s mama does the sewing from home and then she brings it in the next day. It’s just like that.”

The first thing Katherine was greeted with when Rivka opened the door was an old calico sheet. When that was pushed aside, another one flopped into view. The girls pushed through and were greeted with a kind of strange tableau; Five women sat hunched around a miniscule room, heads bent over their work. The only sound was the heavy, incessant tapping of their sewing machines. Most of them seemed middle aged, but one was downright elderly, and another looked to be about fourteen. A little boy sat in a nest of fabric against the wall, carefully sorting through threads with the meticulousness of a brain surgeon. None of them were talking. None of them were even smiling. Even the hints of hospitality- a set of dishes on the wall, a wash station, more sheets hung on laundry lines to block off beds- only served to contrast with the bizarre scene Katherine was witnessing.

This was not just like the Jacobs’. The Jacobs’ apartment was first and foremost a home. This was nothing but a sweatshop.

Rivka kissed her finger tips and held them to the mezuzah on the doorframe before carefully peering in.

“Chava?”

The youngest girl looked up. For a brief moment she looked taken aback. Then she beamed.

“Rivka! Shayna!” She leapt up from her chair and navigated around the bundles of clothes on the floor.

Before she had a chance to react Rivka grabbed Katherine by the crook of her arm and dragged her to the center of the room, speaking excitedly in Yiddish all the while.

“-------- -------- ----! Oh wait, sorry!” Rivka cleared her throat and started again. “This is Katie! Katie’s Yiddish is not too good. She’s very… assamated.” She said this proudly, as if she had just gotten an A on a pop quiz.

“Oh, that’s alright.” Chava’s voice had the tiniest bit of a lilt to it, a subtler version of Shayna’s accent. She leaned into the group. “With these biddies all day, there’s nothing good to talk about. I’m fine with any language, as long as it’s not the same old gossip, again and again and again.”

The girls giggled, and Katherine found herself smiling. Chava turned and said something to the women behind her.

“I’ve told them we’re going to the market. That’ll buy us some time to talk.”

She grabbed a basket from the side of the water basin and gestured for them to follow. It was only then did Katherine notice the long, yellowed gloves covering Chava’s hands. For a split second the right one slipped. Chava swiftly pulled it back in place, but it only took a brief moment for Katherine to see the dull pink scar that was hiding underneath.

* * *

“...then Goldie says that maybe she and Mendel should just elope, so of course Mama starts yelling, and then she starts yelling too, and then the people upstairs started banging their broom on our ceiling. Well, their floor, our ceiling. You know what I mean.”

Chava shook her head. “Marriage is too much trouble. I’m going to stall for as long as I can.”

They were back outside in the chaos. Only now Katherine was less overwhelmed. Chava guided them from pushcart to pushcart, dividing her speech between Yiddish and English as she bargained with the vendors. She might’ve barely breached five foot, but she carried herself with the air of someone much taller. Her dark hair was tied back in a plait and pinned to the back of her head, with the flyaway bits slightly puffed up in the heat. She had deep brown eyes, and they were framed by some of the longest lashes Katherine had ever seen in her life. She was reminded of one of those new fangled blinking dolls, the kind that were always displayed at the front of toy stores window.

But then again, dolls didn’t wear old aprons and shirtwaists that were falling apart by the seams. And there was nothing hiding under their lace gloved hands.

Chava said something in Yiddish to the man at the vegetable stall, and parsed out a few nickels while Shayna delicately put some onions into the basket on her arm. She looked into the basket and checked over the results. “That should be enough. We won’t come back empty handed now.” She turned back to Rivka. “I’m sorry that the wedding is making everyone so unhappy.”

Rivka shrugged as they began to make their way around the block. “It’s fine. It’s worth it, if it’s true love.”

“You really think Goldie’s in love?” Chava looked at her bemusingly.

"The matchmaker says they're one of the best couples she's set up. And even before they got together, Mendel would always stare at her at shul. And-" Rivka stopped in her tracks and grabbed Katherine and Chava by the shoulders so they'd have her full attention. She lowered her voice, making them lean in to hear her in the increasingly noisy street. "-sometimes I see them hold hands under the table when they think no one's watching. Shayna's seen it too, right?"

"I didn't see it, you elbowed me. And then you pointed at them so they stopped holding hands and I missed it." Shayna grumbled.

"But you know that doesn't mean anything, right? Just because a boy looks at you and you look back doesn't mean it's true love." Chava face had quickly left 'bemusement' and was now settling into 'concerned' territory.

"I know that!" Rivka snapped. "That's not what I said!"

"I know, but you worry me sometimes. I don't want you throwing yourself on the first boy who smiles at you."

"I don't _throw_ myself at boys." Rivka's voice sounded unusually dark.

“Oh Rivka, that wasn’t what I meant-”

"Maybe everyone thinks I’m dumb, but I’m not. I know when somebody likes me or not. I’ve been around enough boys to know. We all have.”

A cloak of shame fell over the group. Rivka’s hands were balled into fists, and her face was flushed.

“Just because I still believe in love, it doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Chava leaned forward, her arms outreached in a hug. “No Rivka, please-”

Rivka’s lip was now visibly wobbling. She stuffed one of her fists into her apron pocket and began to sway it back and forth. “I have a penny left. I’m gonna get some candy. Don’t wait up for me.” She quickly ducked into the crowd, and soon vanished into the swarms around them.

Shayna looked at the others nervously. “I will go find her. She just needs time to calm down.” Then she too rushed into the crowd. The uncomfortable realization dawned on Katherine that she and Chava were now alone. The other girl looked at her, clearly concerned.

“Oh no, did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. You meant well. Rivka’s had…” Katherine paused, unsure if it was her place to share the news about Rivka’s new womanhood. “...She’s had a long day. And a lot’s been going on at work. Do you know Sarah and Rachel? They were-”

“Oh, Rachel!” Chava’s face instantly brightened up. “How is she?”

“Um…” Katherine was not expecting that positive of a response. “She’s definitely… vocal.”

“Vocal? I really don’t understand.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Katherine quickly tried to rephrase herself. “I should be more clear, I meant… she talks a lot.”

Chava smiled. “Well, yes! That’s what she does. She talked with me all the time when I started working, that’s how I got so good at English fast.”

“When you started working? Your English is amazing, how have you been practising?”

Chava scrunched up her face in thought. “Well, I started at the factory when I was eight.”

Katherine nearly choked on her own saliva. “You were eight?”

Chava nodded. ”Sure, the kindergarten table. They have children come in at the end of the summer so we can prepare for the winter season.”

“But that’s illegal! In New York, they can’t formally employ kids until they’re-”

Chava looked at her bemusingly. “So? That’s why we hid when the inspector came. It was like playing hide and seek.”

Katherine didn’t know what to say. She knew by now nothing should surprise her anymore. But everytime a new wrench was thrown in, it shook her to the core. If Chava noticed this however, she didn’t say anything.

"Rachel was always so nice to me. Her english is perfect of course, so when I was moved to inline seams she helped me right away. Said her yiddish wasn’t too great so we could help each other out. She’s the reason why I know how to write my name. I’d practise it with her and Sarah during break.”

Katherine tried to repress her shock as best she could. Her mind went in twenty different directions, trying to correlate the Rachel she knew to the one Chava just described. Instinctively, her eyes fell onto Chava’s gloves. “That was… really nice of her. Rachel and Sarah, I mean.”

“Oh yes, Sarah! How is she? It’s so sad what happened to Mr. Jacobs. My Mama sent over some fish after the accident.”

“The Jacobs’... are managing. Sarah’s full time now.”

To her surprise, Chava seemed pleased at this news.

“That’s good to here! The first few weeks, when there’s no work…” The smile quickly faded. “The first week is the worst after the accident. A lot of worry, especially about work.” She twitched suddenly.

“Katie?”

“Yes?”

“You’re looking at my hands”

Katherine quickly shot back into attention. “Well, I, um-”

Chava laughed a bit. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. It is odd, isn’t it?”

She shook her hand a bit and let the sleeve fall past her wrist. “It’s Mama who wants me to wear them. I honestly don’t like gloves very much, they remind me too much of the factory.”

“I don’t think they’re like factory gloves at all.” Katherine tired to choose her words carefully. “The ones we make aren’t nearly as nice.”

Chava gave a small smile. “Mama says fancy women wear gloves like this all the time, but I know that’s not true. And it makes it harder to work.” They were now back at the row house. Chava situated herself at the one of the doorsteps, and Katherine quickly followed suit.

“I know what you mean. I got a glove stuck on my hand the first day of work, I nearly lost control of the machine. Almost got my finger ripped off.”

She held out her hand in the late afternoon sun, and carefully unwrapped the remaining bits of Sarah’s apron. The scar had settled into a sharp off white color, and had left a deep indent on the middle index of her two fingers. Katherine bit her lower lip and tried not to wince. It occurred to her suddenly that this is what her hand would look for the rest of her life.

Chava’s face was unreadable.

“Look at that. We’re sisters.” Then she took off her glove.

It took Katherine all the strength in the world not to gasp when she saw what was underneath.

An off-color, jagged scar began at the middle point of the back of her hand, and crept up to the center of her ring finger. Or what should’ve been her ring finger. Because what should have been a full finger ended at the halfway mark, leaving only an awkward stump. A small slit knitted across the top of the healed wound. The younger girl looked back at her, gauging her reaction. Katherine could only hope she was coming across as calm as possible.

”I didn’t mean to make Rivka upset back there, but can only take so much wedding talk. Mama talks all the time about how I don’t have a ring finger anyone. That I’ll never get married.” She snorted and rolled her eyes.

Katherine tried to give a small grin. “As if that’s what men look for in women; their fingers.”

Chava tried to return the smile. “Oh yes. Spend enough time in a factory, you know all about what men want.”

Katherine’s insides turned to ice. Chava’s attention was back at her hand. “People think I wasn’t being careful, but I was, I really try. I mean, I did try. It was just that… with Frank... he’s still there, right?”

Katherine gave a barely discernible nod.

“He just couldn’t leave me alone, even for one minute. He was always watching me, obsessing over what I was doing. He was either really mean, or he was too nice. He said I was the best worker he had. He called me his pacemaker.”

“Pacemaker?” Katherine thought she had heard that term before

“Pacemaker, because I was the fastest. I set the pace, see? But it’s hard to do that when someone’s watching you. So I started getting distracted all the time. I never knew when he was going to come up on me. When my needle broke-” Chava stopped suddenly. Her face was pale, and her breathing stagnated. She utterly paralized.

“Frank was… um, he had just taken me back into his office. And… he asked if I wanted to earn some extra money. He... um…”

Somewhere in the back of her throat, Katherine found her voice. “You know that’s illegal, right?” Katherine realized what a futile statement that was the moment it left her lips.

“Why do you care so much if something is legal or not?” There was now a twinge of anger in Chava’s voice. “It doesn’t matter if things are illegal. It won’t stop people from breaking them. People want cheap gloves. They don’t care what it takes to get them.”

“But, you said an inspector came in? How do they not see all this? There’s not just Frank, but the children, the fabric near the light fixtures, and don’t think I’ve ever seen a fire escape anywhere near-“

“You… ask a lot of questions.” Chava’s face was wrinkled up in confusion. “What did you say your name was?”

Katherine’s heart beat faster. “Uh, Katie. Rivka introduced me earlier, remember?”

Chava shook her head. “No, I know that. But what’s your family name?”

“Siegel.” Katherine’s mouth was as dry as the Sahara.

“Siegel? I don’t know any Siegel’s. Have you always lived around here?”

Before Katherine could answer, a throat cleared nearby. The two girls looked up and saw Rivka, red eyed and with her fist clenched around a small brown bag. Next to her Shayna had her arm around her shoulder and and wore a particularly tired expression on her face.

“Rivka has something she wants to say.”

Whatever Rivka said next, Katherine had no idea. Rivka cautiously sat on the steps next to Chava and began to speak softly to her in Yiddish. Katherine tried to catch a word here and there, but her voice was so fluent and quick, she could barely keep up with her pace. There was, deep down, a part of Katherine that desperately wanted to know what Rivka was saying. But she knew that even if she immersed herself in the language, she would always speak it with an outsider’s tongue.

The two girls hugged, and Rivka opened her bag and passed it around to the others.

“Here, we should probably get going soon. It’s almost supper time.”

Katherine daintily took one of the small brown squares and put it in her mouth, not quite sure what it was. She watched as Chava gave Shayna a hug, then turned to her. She gave her a quizzical look as she reached out her hand.

“It was very nice meeting you, Katie Siegel.”

She could feel the remnants of Chava’s ring finger against the back of her hand as she reached to shake it.

* * *

Katherine chewed on her piece of candy for the rest of the walk back it, slowly transferring it from one side of the jaw to the other. She was too embarrassed to ask what it was, but it sweet and brutally sticky. As she dug around in her apron pocket for a toothpick, one thought kept permeating her mind- _That could’ve been me. One wrong move and could’ve been the one to have her finger amputated, that could’ve been me…_

She stopped herself.

Sure, that could have been her. A little more distracted or a little too tired in any direction could have gotten her fingers slit off. But the problem ran so much deeper than that. Chava’s finger wasn’t just cut off by a piece of shoddy machinery. It was also the long work hours, the too few breaks, the poor lighting. It was men like Frank that caused girls like Chava to go through life without a ring finger. And sure, today it was Chava, but who would be next?  It could Rikva. Or Shayna. Even Rachel. And Sarah. Oh God, Sarah….

This could happen again to any of us, Katherine realized as she made her way back to the tenement apartment. Any of us, at any time, at any factory in New York...

She sat at her typewriter and pulled a fresh sheet of paper from Denton’s bag. She jotted down a few notes on her pad, then typed in a line of x’s to make sure the ink still worked.

This could happen again. And she would do everything in her power to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams into the abyss*
> 
> This was a very difficult (and Sarah-less) chapter to write, which is probably why it took an obscene amount of time. The next couple of chapters will be much more upbeat (and with prime newsbians content <3 <3 <3)
> 
> Comments give me life!!!!


	8. Chapter 8

Katherine hated the boy the moment she saw him.

He was lounging against the entrance to third floor, his long legs draped oh so casually across the beaten down steps. There was a general air of unkempt-ness to him; his pants were worn and well patched, and his boots seemed to have gone through several owners before him. As Katherine approached the entryway he quickly scrambled to his feet and snatched his cap off his disheveled head.

“Why hello there miss, have we met before?”

It was then she saw the old messenger wrapped around his shoulder. The boy was a newsie.

Katherine’s heartbeat pulsed into a tempo. Did he recognize her as a reporter? Or from Jacoby’s? Even if he didn’t know her true vocation, there was always the chance he had seen her on the arm of Darcy or Bill, wearing clothes that could buy out the entire tenement they were currently standing in. All the work she had put in this last month depended upon the others thinking she belonged here. The last thing she needed was some overgrown street urchin to ruin it for her.

She pursed her lips and tried not to look too nervous. “Have we?”

The boy cracked a grin. “Yeah, in my dreams.”

Katherine rolled her eyes as the panic evaporated in her chest. “I bet you tell that to every girl you meet.”

He rubbed the side of his smudged nose thoughtfully. “Naw, only the pretty ones.”  He reached his hand forward in what he thought must have been a grand gesture. “Need help with help with that last step? This is an awfully big building, a lovely lady such as yourself might need-”

“Jack, there you are! My folks have been asking-” David popped his head in from the hallway. He looked only slightly startled when he noticed Katherine there as well. “Oh, hi Katie. Sarah’s in the kitchen if you want to stop by.”

“Davey, you should’ve told me there were so many beautiful women hanging around your place. I would’ve come here ages ago.”

“Watch it, that’s my sister’s friend.” David voice carried a hint of warning to it. It took Katherine back by surprise. She had never heard him sound this confident before. The anxiety that had always seemed to permeate his voice had been completely alleviated as he turned Jack by the shoulder jokingly as they started down the hallway.

She followed, vaguely listening to their back and forth as they made their way to the apartment. It was there she caught her second surprise of the evening. For as soon as she passed through the Jacobs’ door, she was immediately met with a body crushing hug from Sarah.

“Katie! It’s so good to see you!”

Katherine nearly stumbled back into the coat rack. In theory, Sarah appeared the same as when Katherine had left her a few hours ago. If anything, she looked a bit worse for wear; her hair was matted down with sweat, and a small gray bruise had formed just above her cheekbone. It was tempting to bring up the fight with Rachel, but Katherine pushed it to the back of her mind. She hadn’t seen Sarah this happy in a very long time. And seeing Sarah happy brought out a feeling in her she couldn’t quite describe. Pride? Relief? She tried to ignore the goosebumps that formed when she leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

“Can we go up to your place tonight? I’ve got something to tell you!”

Katherine nodded faintly. She stumbled back a bit, trying to keep her wits about her. Her head felt like a balloon hovering above the rest of her body. It must’ve been the long walk back from Shayna’s place. Or the heat. Yes, it was definitely the heat. That would explain why her cheeks were becoming flushed faster by the second.

“Katie, you will stay with us, yes? Supper is soon.” Mrs. Jacobs was dishing gefilte fish onto small plates from the corner stove.

“Oh, no I shouldn’t, really…” Katherine had made it a point to avoid the Jacobs’ place since the accident. The last thing she wanted was for them to feel obligated to feed her, especially now in their precarious financial situation. It was taking every ounce of her self-control not to dip into her savings account and stuff a wad of bills under their door, enough for food, housing, hospital bills, and a trust fund large enough to send all three Jacobs’ kids to a four year institution each. Sarah would really like the Barnard library, Katherine thought. Maybe after all this is over, she could stop by after work and she’d show her around-

Reality struck Katherine with a firm, hard slap. Of course she couldn’t show Sarah Barnard. Sarah didn’t know she had a high school diploma, much less a college one. A creeping realization snuck its way slowly into her conscious as Sarah released her from her grip and beamed at her earnestly. There was no way she and Sarah could possibly remain friends after her article was published. Too many questions, for one thing. And not enough answers on her part. It had never occurred to her before what would happen after this whole experiment was over and she’d have to return to her old life. The very thought made her numb with dread. Maybe there was some way for them to remain in touch after all this was over, through letters or even telegrams or-

She was jolted back into reality by a soft squeeze on her shoulder. For someone as high spirited as Sarah, she could be bizarrely calming at all the right moment. “No, you should stay, really! You can meet David and Les’ selling partner!”

“Oh, trust me.” Katherine deadpanned. “We’ve already met.”

She gestured with her chin to Jack, who, to his credit, had taken his cap off when he entered the apartment. He was sitting on the boys’ bed with Les, who was showing him his extensive cowboy dime novel collection. David’s eyes kept jutting back to him as he helped his mother set the table, as if Jack would disappear in a puff of smoke if he averted his gaze for too long.

“Yeah Katie, stay. It’ll be a real party.” Jack looked up from Wild West Weekly and gave a toothy grin. “Or a… Davey, what was the word you said the other day? An ass society?”

“Association!” David’s ears went pink as Les keeled over in silent laughter. “What I said was ‘association’, Race just took it the wrong way and- “

“Yeah, yeah, we know. Don’t take it too personally, Race’s head is always in the gutter.”

“You mean like your mouth?” Katherine shot back.

Jack was about to respond when the bedroom door creaked open. Mr. Jacobs stood in its frame, balancing as best he could with a battered looking cane in one hand. The other gripped a rolled up newspaper. Sarah and David scrambled to meet him.

“Here Papa, let me get that for you.”

For a brief second Katherine’s eyes met with Jack’s. The look lasted lasted only a moment, but it said everything that needed to be said. Katherine quickly averted her gaze. She really needed to hold her tongue for the rest of the evening. The last thing this household needed was another conflict to fuss over.

That ended up being easy to do, as Jack was more than happy to have the table’s full attention for the entirety of supper. “The important thing for a good headline is to make it stand out. You find something exciting, like a murder, or a fire, something that’ll really rile folks up. And if there ain’t nothing like that-“ He paused and bit into a slice of day old challah with aplomb. “-then we improve the truth. Ain’t that right Les?”

“Right Cowboy!” Les nodded vigorously.

“Cowboy? Why Cowboy?” Sarah looked intrigued. Katherine ducked her head towards her plate to stifle her laughter.

“It’s his nickname, ‘cause he’s gonna move west soon. Like Santa Fe, where the cowboys are!”

Katherine couldn’t help herself. “And how exactly are you going to finance a trip to Santa Fe Mister-?”

“Kelly.” Jack’s tone took on a defensive edge. “And I’ll get there the good old fashioned way, with hard work, Miss-”

“Siegel.” Katherine never felt more confident in her life saying that false name. “I had no idea ‘improving the truth’ was such hard work. Sounds a lot like lying to me.”

“Hey, if them pape bigwigs did their job, I wouldn’t have to fix it so much. Say Davey, what was that headline for The World, the day we first met?”

Katherine’s chest did a skip at the mere mention of ‘World’.

David furrowed his brow. “Uh, it was the trolley strike, right?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Jack gestured excitedly with his fork around in the air. A small bit of ground fish hit Katherine on the cheek.

“See, them big wigs at the top don’t know what regular folks want to read. They did that trolley story for three weeks, then got mad when folks stopped buying from ‘em. But it ain’t the strike that was the problem. I tell you, if they’d only run stories about the fights between the workers and the cops, or some of those speeches them union leaders gave, it be selling like hot cakes, mark my word.”

“Well, it’s not just the men on top who makes these decisions Mister Kelly.” Katherine delicately dabbed her face with her napkin. “The reporters have a say too. Don’t you think they know what everyday folks want to read?”

Jack snorted. “When they start askin’ regular folks, let me know. Until then, I’m more than happy to do their job for ‘em.”

Before Katherine could respond Mrs. Jacobs suddenly clapped her hands for attention. “I think now would be a good time to take out the cake.”

Sarah stood up and began to collect the empty dishes. “The cake? But Papa’s birthday is tomorrow.”

“Tonight we have guests.” Mr. Jacobs said. “Now is the perfect time to celebrate.”

Katherine’s stomach clenched with guilt. This was going too far. She needed to get out of here stat, before she and Jack ate this family out of hearth and home. “So, uh Sarah, we should be going up to my place if we want to, um…. Finish it on time.” Katherine’s mouth was dry. She hoped she sounded convincing enough.

“Finish on time ...?” Sarah studied her face urgently as Katherine gestured towards the door. “Oh! Alright, we can go if you really... want to do it now.” She finished feebly.

“What’s this about?” Mrs. Jacobs took a plate from her daughter and placed it in the wash basin.

“Oh, well you see…” Think quick Kath, think quick. “I have this sick aunt… you know Bryan, my cousin… it’s his mother. I just got a telegram from him, they’re out of soup. So…”

“And... I said I would help.” Sarah gave her a small, encouraging smile. It eased Katherine’s anxiety.

“Sarah’s a far superior cook than I am. I need all the help I can get.”

“Far superior! That’s a ten cent word! You and Davey been exchanging notes?” Jack grinned.

“I don’t need anyone to exchange notes with, Mr. Kelly. I get along just fine on my own.” With that, Katherine took the final plate and put it in the basin, linked her arm with Sarah’s, and made her way out of the door.

 

* * *

 

“Can you believe the nerve of that boy?”

Katherine waited until the two of them were safely inside the sanctuary of her apartment before she let her frustration spill loose. Sarah gave her a confused look and ran a hand through her depleted bun.

“You mean Jack?”

“Yes!” Katherine flung her arms in the air and started pacing around the small room. “He was completely arrogant and tasteless, had absolutely no sense of basic decorum or respect or-”

“Alright, alright. He’s a little blunt, sure. Most newsies are. Did he say something to you?”

“He flirted with me.” Katherine crossed her arms. “And he was completely rude all throughout dinner! I mean, he practically invited himself over-“

“Listen, Jack’s a miserable flirt, I’ll give you that, but my family wanted him for supper. We’ve been trying to get him over here for weeks.”

Katherine stopped in her tracks. “Weeks? Why?”

Sarah fell back into one of the second hand chairs and started picking the last of her hair pins from her dilapidated bun. “Let’s just say my brothers didn’t have the easiest first day on the job. Apparently David got into a fight with the foreman or something? Neither of them really knew what they were doing. That’s where Jack came in. He immediately took them under his wing, no questions asked. They’ve been a team ever since.” She pulled out the last pin from the depths of her scalp and dropped it into her damp palm. She stared at the small pile intensely.

“Jack’s the reason why we haven’t been evicted yet.”

Katherine gave a sharp inhale. “Oh Sarah, I didn’t know it was…”

“That bad?” Sarah looked up from her hand. “It’s okay, we didn’t want people to know. Everybody’s been dealing with their own problems and-” She paused, her face going flushed. For a second it looked as if her voice was stuck in her throat. She sighed, massaged the corners of her eyes, and continued. “And the meals the synagogue ladies bring over aren’t nearly as good as my mom’s. I swear they must use sawdust or something-” She looked up and gave a half hearted smile.

Katherine knew that look. It was the same one she had given people in the months following Lucy’s passing when they asked how she was doing. It was a placating look, one that was meant to comfort others and take the attention off herself. A leave me alone look.

Sarah poured the excess pins into her apron pocket and ran her fingers through her damp hair. “Anyways, it’s been years since David’s had any real friends over, so we really wanted to make it count. And I bet they don’t celebrate too many birthdays at the boarding house.”

“The boarding house-?”

Sarah nodded. “The one on Duane Street. David says that’s where he lives.”

Katherine thought back to all newsies she had encountered in her time as a reporter. It had never concerned her where a child like that might be living. Or rather, the thought came across, but she had never really cared before.

“Sarah, I wasn’t rude tonight, was I? Or condescending, or-”

“Oh, no! Not at all!” Sarah stretched her arms and tilted back in  her chair. “I didn’t agree with everything Jack said either. I mean there are plenty of newspapers that aren’t like The World, or god forbid, The Sun…”

Katherine bit down on her tongue. “Oh really, like what?”

Sarah suddenly flung forward in her seat, its legs hitting the floor with a rude thud. She dug into her pocket, frantically leafing through her hair pins. “That’s actually why I wanted to come up here tonight.” She pulled out something flat and indiscernible.

“So, I have some big news. And I’ve got you to thank for it!”

“Thank me? Why?”

“Look at this!”

A newspaper clipping was shoved underneath Katherine’s nose. It was soft, and crinkled in a way seemed like it had been in someone’s pocket for quite some time. Katherine squinted at printing. It was in Yiddish.

“Well, this looks like a newspaper clipping…”

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot-“ Sarah quickly snatched it back from her. “Here, I’ll translate.”

She cleared her throat. “Jewish Daily Forward Looking for Writers- no experience necessary.”

“Jewish Daily-? Oh, is that a local newspaper?”

Sarah gave her a perplexed look. “Yes, Katie. It is.” She looked as though she were about to say something else, but then thought better of it and continued.

“So remember that conversation we had the day of my dad’s accident? You told me how writing things down makes you feel better? I started doing that. Just a little bit every night before bed. I used some David’s old school paper since… Anyway, I saw this in one of the papers by the Yiddish bookshop, and thought, ‘Why Not’?”

She flung her arms in the air, losing her grip on the clipping. It fell to the ground like a dull colored confetti piece. Sarah blushed, and ducked down to get it. “Sorry! All this excitement turned me into a klutz.”

“No judgment from me.” Katherine said. It was a relief to see Sarah this excited about anything.

“They wanted stories about factory life specifically, so I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to send them. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t really think anything would come of it. But then I got this-!”

She pulled out another piece of paper. A telegram. Also in Yiddish. Katherine squinted at the ink lettering.

“And… did they like it?”

“Even better! They wanted to meet with me! I just got back from their office a few hours ago! Katie, they want to publish my piece!”

“Sarah that’s… that’s amazing.” Katherine’s jaw felt like it was about to disjoint itself. Out of all things Sarah could have told her this evening, this was the last thing she had expected. A part of her wished she had known beforehand. After all, she wasn’t so rusty a writer herself. But clearly, Sarah had never needed her help.

“They showed me all around the office, and I met everyone on the staff. I got to shake everyone’s hand and everything. Some of the writers were even women! Did you know they had girl reporters?”

“Uh, yes.” Katherine responded tersely. “I’ve heard of a few.”

“Anyway, my piece goes out next week. They needed to make a few edits, grammar mostly, I’m not as used to writing so much in Yiddish. But it’s happening, and it’s gonna happen soon and-“ Sarah paused and took a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know first. No one else really in my family… well, there’s a lot going on right now, and I don’t want to excite them too much. I don’t want them to think it’ll take away from my work.”

“You’ll be paid for this, right? They’re not just gonna take your words and run away with it?”

Sarah shrugged. “They told me three cents a word. I don’t know if that a lot, but it’s more than what I make in a day at the factory. That’s all they can do right now, but it’s something. And they asked if I wanted my name down as Sarah or Tzeitel. So I think they really mean to give me credit.”

“Wow.” Now Katherine was the one who fell back into the chair, close to speechlessness. The irony of this whole situation was not lost on her. Sarah was going to have a byline before her. But bizarrely enough, she couldn’t help but feel elated for her. Seeing Sarah happy brought her more joy than any promotion The Sun could give her. A sudden conviction rose inside of her.

“We need to celebrate this.”

Sarah ran another hand through her hair. “Celebrate? How?”

Katherine wracked her brain for ideas as she scanned the bare apartment. “Well, we don’t have champagne, that’s for sure. If you feel comfortable telling the other girls, maybe I can throw something quick in the next few days so you can have a real party.”

“Oh Katie, that’s way too much, even for me. If we really wanted to do something like-“ she paused for a split second, then her eyes widened. She broke into a broad grin. “Wait a minute, where does this fake aunt of yours live again?”

“Uh, I didn’t say…”

“Perfect!” She took off her apron, pulling out a fistful of pins with it, and started frantically reassembling her hair. “She lives far away, maybe even in Brooklyn. We might have to do an overnight if gets too late.” She turned back around and gave Katherine a coy grin. “After all, two innocent girls such as ourselves would never be caught roaming the streets at night.”

Katherine sat up further in her chair. “What exactly are you planning Jacobs?”

Sarah’s pompadour was now fully in place. She pinched her cheeks and began to straighten the creases in her skirt. “Something amazing. Trust me Siegel, you'll never forget a night like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams into the abyss*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks, as of today "Roses" is now rated M. Nothing scary or super explicit, but for the sake of proper rating systems (and my own personal responsibility) I'm upping the rating for those who want a heads up on sexually explicit material.
> 
> This chapter took me through a TON of research, and two really amazing pieces helped me the bulk of the heavy lifting; the book The Golem and The Jinni by Helene Wecker (it takes place in Manhattan in 1899!! Newsies fans, read it!!!) and the movie Hester Street (1975) directed by Joan Micklin Silver (Carol Kane is such a babe, plus I watched for free on youtube!!) 
> 
> As an addendum- if sexually explicit scenes aren't your cup of tea, end the chapter at "There was no more questioning of social niceties". 
> 
> With all that being said, enjoy!!

The first step, of course, was getting there.

Katherine’s fingers were wrapped tight around the handles of Denton’s second hand cooking pot as she leaned against the doorframe of the Jacobs’ apartment. It was rude to eavesdrop, she knew, but since she couldn’t understand most of what was being said, she couldn’t feel too guilty about listening in on the Jacobs’ half Yiddish, half English back and forth. Sarah would say something, Mrs. Jacobs would respond. Then Mr. Jacobs would say something, which made David retort back, and then Les said something that caused everyone to start shouting at the same time.

Finally, a voice in English. “I can walk ‘em. If the girls don’t mind, of course.”

Katherine could feel her insides twist into knots. No, that couldn’t be…

The creak of the old door made her jump to attention. Sarah and Jack stood in the doorway, the former with a tight lipped grin on her face, the latter with an expression somewhere between bemusement and vague uncertainty.

“So my folks said it would be alright for us to spend the night at your aunt’s, as long as we have an escort to take us there.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose that’s alright.” This was Sarah’s plan after all. And Katherine trusted that Sarah’s plan allowed for some kinks in the road.

“Well, you lead the way Katie.” Jack combed his fingers through his hair before readjusting his cap. “You said your aunt lives in Brooklyn, right? I know some fellas over there. Might be a problem with goin’ over another’s turf, but since you ladies are with me I’m sure it won’t be much of a problem-”

“Right. Brooklyn.” Sarah gripped each of them by the shoulder and started steering them down the hallway, Jack on her left and Katherine on her right. “So Katie was just telling me upstairs that her aunt doesn’t live in Brooklyn anymore. Just moved actually. So you don’t need to worry about going there. It’s only gonna be a couple blocks away really.”

“Uh huh.” Jack shot Katherine an incredulous look. “So where does this aunt of yours live exactly?”

“Broome Street.” Sarah said it quickly and with utter confidence. “Like I said, only a few blocks away. You’ll hardly remember walking us.”

It was a relief to have Sarah between them as they made their way out of the building and into the busy streets below. This allowed her to direct the group and control the conversation in a way that kept Jack’s suspicions at bay. Or, at the very least, keep him distracted.

“So Race comes in in just his suspenders, no shirt, no undershirt, no nothing. And when I ask what happened, he tells me, ‘Oh, I lost it in a poker game in Brooklyn!’”

“Brooklyn?” Sarah choked back a laugh, tears in her eyes. “Are you telling me he walked all the way from Brooklyn with no shirt?”

Jack nodded as he ducked around a peddler’s cart. “The worst part was it ain’t even was summer, it was in the middle of October. So of course he’s freezing too-”

“Is that why you had to be careful about going back to Brooklyn?” Katherine asked suddenly. “Are they still holding his shirt ransom?”

“Listen to you kid, that’s pretty funny.” Jack gave her an appreciative grin, and Katherine couldn’t help but smile back. “Naw, it goes back deeper than that, see it’s all about selling turf-”

“Wait, hold that story, I think we’re here.” Sarah halted, grabbing each of them by the shirtsleeves.

Jack raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. “This is where your aunt lives?”

They were in front of an old brick complex; the windows battered up with plywood boards, the front door graffitied in a Yiddish sprawl. Katherine felt the urge to sprint. Sarah touched her gently on the shoulder and gave her an oversaturated, pitying look.

“Poor thing has to rent here ever since her husband died. Her room is always so damp, it drives her temperature up.” She paused dramatically, then sighed and her face brightened into a grin. “Well, nothing that hot soup can’t fix. Katie, should we let ourselves inside?”

Katherine nodded dumbly and stumbled her way towards the steps. Jack stood stiffly at the side.

“I ain’t being tricked here now, right? I ain’t gonna wake up the next day to a headline that says ‘two girls murdered in Jewtown ‘cause they got left alone by a complete rube, huh? ‘Cause I don’t know if I can face Davey tomorrow if it’s true.”

Sarah put on a tight grin and gave Jack a firm handshake. “Thank you, Mr. Kelly, it’s been a real pleasure. But Miss Seigel and I have to nurse a sick old lady back to health tonight.”

Jack paused, then gave a deep sigh, letting his shoulders deflate. “Alright ladies, it’s your funeral. If you do make it, could you put in a word for me to your folks?”

Sarah nodded generously. “I’ll tell them you were a perfect gentleman. Goodnight Mr. Kelly.”

Jack gave one last nod with his cap, and Katherine found herself waving goodbye as he strolled into the mass of people down the block. Sarah nudged her gently and Katherine followed her in with trepidation.

The insides were a pretty good match to its exteriors. Dejected, half broken furniture, cobwebs in every corner, and a healthy coating of dust for anything that had the bad fortune to be left behind. Katherine flipped over the pot, turning it into makeshift seat, and tried not to wince too much as Sarah peeked through the remains of one of the boarded up windows.

“Sarah this can not be the place-“

“Wait” Sarah leaned in further, squinting when a small beam of light fell across her face. “One, two, three, four, five-“

“Sarah, you’re insane if you think we’re gonna spend all night here-“

“Eight, nine, ten. Check the other window. Can you still see Jack?”

Katherine peeked through the battered planks. “He’s about halfway down the street, I can still see his cap.”

Sarah nodded. “Perfect… _tsent, naynt, akhat, zibet-“_

“Sarah-“

“Alright, alright. We’ll go through the back.”

They made their way through the building and down a set of concrete steps. Sarah guided her down one of the side alleyways, and Katherine could feel a dull thumping noise creeping closer and closer, punctuated by loud conversation and… was that a piano? Some violins? Before she could ask, they were now on the other side of the street, being swept into a mass of people filing into a makeshift line outside a nondescript building. The ages ranged anywhere from teenagers to mid twenties, speaking excitedly in several different tongues. Katherine could discern about half of their conversations. Girls and women alike complemented each other’s shirtwaists and bemoaned the latest workplace drama, while men and their adolescent counterparts nodding curtly to each other and passed around dwindling cigarette stubs. They were swarming around a door being heralded by a disinterested looking man on a tall stool. In one hand he held an old sardine can, and his other held a fat, brightly lit cigar. Grey spittle flew from his mouth every time he spoke.

“Fifteen cents for the ladies, a quarter for the gents.”

“Wait a minute.” Sarah gripped her arm as they found themselves being pulled along with the rest of the crowd. She pulled out a miniature drawstring purse from the waistband of her skirt and shot Katherine a shy smile. “I’ve got writing money coming in.”

Katherine’s hand reflexively clammed over the small bag. She fumbled through her own skirt pocket and pulled a couple of nickels, sliding them smoothly into the man’s cup. Sara looked at her in shock.

“Katie, are you sure?”

Katherine nodded firmly. “It was my idea to celebrate, remember? Save that for your family, all you need to do is have a good time tonight.”

Sarah’s eyes grew moist. She quickly wiped them, and took hold of Katherine’s hand. “Brace yourself.”

She pulled back the curtain that blocked off the opening from the street. The two of them bounded down the dark hallway, the music getting louder and Sarah’s hot breath tickling against Katherine’s ear. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest, threating to break loose at any moment. Sarah gave her hand one last squeeze before she pushed through the final door.

Then for a brief second, Katherine went completely blind.

She immediately shut her eyes, rubbing the corners until the spots in her vision started to fade. When she briefly peeked them open, she could barely believe what she saw. She and Sarah stood at the edge of a vast room, though just how big Katherine couldn’t say. For every wall had been refurbished with a wide industrial mirror that spread from floor to ceiling. Candelabras stuck out of the sides of the walls and brass chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, bouncing light and color off one another and bathing the room in a warm glow. A raised stage was placed in the back corner, where a small band played familiar ragtime songs, led by a plump man in tails. On the sides there were small tables covered with threadbare red tablecloths, and a very busy bar stacked with multi colored bottles and flasks made up the rear of the room. Marked off with rope in the center was a makeshift dance floor, where a huge, ever changing nucleus of young people swirled together in a clumsy, two step form.

“Well, what do you think?” Sarah was staring at her intently.

“Sarah… is this a dance hall?”

The younger girl beamed. “Is this your first time? I’m so glad to hear that! I was worried I was gonna bore you.”

Katherine rubbed her eyes again and hoped her mouth wasn’t gaping open too much. “You could never bore me. And this-” she gestured to everything around her. “Could never in a million years bore me. I had only heard these types of places from stories, I had no idea they were actually like this.”

“Geez, you never really went out much, huh?” Sarah brushed back some loose tendrils of hair and glanced over at the dance floor. “Me and the girls started going here about a year ago, its something everyone does. Do you know how to dance? I can show you if you like.”

In the past, Katherine had always made it a point to avoid dances. She had always been taught that parties were supposed to have a point; a marriage or a business deal or a coming out party that would lead to a marriage or a business deal. When she had heard a few girls from her finishing school days joking about slumming it downtown, she couldn’t see the fun in it. The very idea of a dance hall confounded her. But here, everyone seemed to be having fun for fun’s sake. A radical notion for something like the Hearst’s Christmas banquet.

“So us girls go in the middle, see? And the boys don’t do anything, they just watch us.” Sarah guided her towards the center of the room, daintily stepping over rope barrier. She turned around to give Katherine a lift over. “At least at first.”

They pushed their way into the middle of the action, surrounded by a flurry of girls talking excitedly in Yiddish. The conductor tapped his baton against the stand, and a new song started up. Sarah’s small hand clasped quickly around her waist.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m used to being the boy.”

Katherine breath fell short of her throat. She nodded wordlessly. As the crowd began to move around them Sarah pulled her in closer. She seemed to take her silence as nervousness.

“Just follow my lead, it's alright if you don’t get it right away.” She leaned in closer to Katherine’s ear. “Nobody’s gonna be looking at your feet here.”

Katherine gave a small laugh and let Sarah lead the way. Dancing, it turned out, wasn’t so hard as her old finishing teacher made it seem. Along with the sway of the crowd, Sarah helped her find her footing, and soon it began to feel as natural as walking. Sarah continued to whisper in her ear, helping her keep count.

“One and two and one and two and-”

They began to be caught up in the momentum. There was no stopping, not even to catch their breath. Sarah clutched her tighter and tighter. Katherine could feel the heat of her breath on her cheek, the roughness of her delicate fingers intertwined with her own, her heartbeat against hers. She could barely feel the floor against the balls of her feet as the tempo ran faster and faster, her legs burning to keep up with the pace. Katherine leaned back a bit so she could see Sarah’s face, take in the lines of her smile, her vibrant eyes, the flashes of her perfect, white teeth when she laughed-

 _It could be like this forever_. _This would be alright, the two of us dancing until the end of time. I could die right now and be content with it, if this is the last memory I ever get to have. This moment will last forever and ever and-_

She was spun around one more time, then Sarah’s grip loosened. Katherine’s eyes darted around, confused. The main group of girls began to disperse, and the young men started to eke their way into the center. Everyone was starting to pair off. Before she ask what was going on Sarah was gone, and in her place with a tall man she wanted absolutely nothing to do with. He smiled at her broadly and said something as he put his hand around her waist. Katherine fought the temptation to pull back.

“Sorry, no Yiddish. Only English.”

“Ah.” His eyes creased together, looking slightly disappointed. He was moderately handsome, if you didn’t mind red hair. And Katherine couldn’t hold a prejudice like that, considering how dangerously auburn her own curls got in the summer. The music started up again, and they went back into the two step, this time with him leading. It was like she had been placed in a faulty trolley car, with all the awkward jumps and hops and absolutely no sense of rhythm between them. Katherine peeked over his shoulder to scan the crowd, wondering where Sarah had gone. After craning her neck she saw that she too had pared off, this time with a shorter man with a head of thick, dark blonde hair. They two of then were talking as they swayed back and forth. Then Sarah whispered something into his ear. They both laughed. Katherine felt sick to her stomach.

“Will you excuse me?” She separated herself from her partner, who shrugged and sauntered off to find someone new. Katherine frantically made her way through the crowd, searching for Sarah’s face. It was like fighting against a wave. Everytime time she tried to move forward she was poked and prodded back into submission, flung like ball between the bases. Eventually the momentum flung Katherine against the cord that sanctioned off the back of the dance floor. It swung like a jump rope and hit her in the gut.

“Watch it!” The bartender snapped. “It’s new, don’t ruin!”

“Sorry.” Katherine winced as she clutched her abdomen. He must think she was drunk. She gripped the rope, trying to get her footing again and prayed no one else would see this as an opportune time to slam into her again. But as she hitched up her skirts, a hand fell on her elbow. Sarah’s? No, she’d recognize that anywhere. But certainly not a man’s either. Katherine tried to jerk her arm away, hoping whoever was holding onto it was making a mistake. And if they weren’t, well, Katherine wasn’t above giving a Pulitzer tongue lashing about the ethics of personal space if she needed to. Before she could open her mouth though, the owner of the hand spoke.

“Geez Siegel, it’s bad enough you’re clumsy at work. Who knew you took the show with you?”

“Rachel?” Katherine’s eyes nearly popped out of her head and she stumbled again against the cord. Rachel rolled her eyes and heaved her over, gripping her arm patiently until Katherine got both her feet in the same spot. She took a moment to readjust her jaw before she spoke again. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“What, I’m not allowed to go outside?” Rachel let go of her arm limply and started to walk back to the bar. “A thank you would be nice, considering I left my beer for you.”

She sat down at one of the small round tables and took a long sip from a glass the size of her head. Katherine was tempted to duck away and let her be, but something made her pause. This could be the only chance she’d ever have to talk to Rachel outside of work. She grabbed a free chair and planted next to her table.

“All I meant was that I’m surprised you’re here, considering you’ve quite the busy day.”

Rachel traced the outline of the glass rim with her finger. “What are you talking about Siegel?”

“You had a fight today, remember? You hit me. And Sarah.”

Rachel snorted into her beer as she took another sip. “Sarah had it coming. She always knows how to push my buttons.”

“You should apologize to her, you know. And to Rivka. They’ve been having a hard enough time as it is.”

“We’re all having hard timesss.” Rachel drew out the ‘s’ sound ‘til it slurred. It made Katherine wonder whether this was her first beer. “Only difference between them and me is that they whine about it all the time. Not me.” Rachel shook her head fervently. “I never whine. I don’t complain about a damn thing.”

“No, you just throw it back at other people.”

Rachel began to trace the rim of the glass with her finger. “Did you come over here just to lecture me?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you.”

Rachel paused but didn’t respond. Katherine took it as a sign to press forward. “I had a little trip with Rivka and Shayna today. They took me downtown.”

She raised an eyebrow and returned to concentrating on her drink. “Is that so?”

“I met Chava.”

Rachel’s face instantly turned deathly white. Her shoulders hunched in, and her mouth planted itself into a firm, thin line. Katherine waited for her to take another sip of her beer before continuing. “It’s too bad you don’t see each other anymore, it sounded like she really missed you.”

Rachel said nothing.

“She told me how you used to help her with her English. That was really sweet of you.”

Rachel still said nothing. Katherine took a breath and braces herself for whatever was about to come next. “And she showed me her hand-“

“Stop it!"

Rachel slammed her glass down on the table like a gavel. It made a dull, cracking noise and sent splinters flying onto the floor. Her blouse was doused with beer, and her cup now had a long gash in the middle, ending with a missing shard at the top. Her hand was bleeding.

“Here.” Katherine took out a handkerchief that had been tucked in her sleeve. Rachel accepted it bashfully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-“

“You have no right.” Rachel mumbled into her hand. “No right to talk about Chava. It’s none of your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“You weren’t there that day. You wouldn’t understand. What happened to Chava is my fault.”

“Your-? Rachel, you’re not making sense. Chava never blamed you! All she mentioned was the sewing machine, and Frank-”

Rachel groaned and stifled a sob with her bleeding hand. “You don’t understand, you don’t understand…”

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Katherine looked up to see Sarah, sweaty and panting, in front of their table. A bubble of relief swelled in her chest. It was hard to tell if Sarah was as shocked as she was to find Rachel in her current state. But if she was, she did a damn good job of hiding it. Sarah crouched over and gently removed the broken bottle from Rachel’s hand. “Looks like you two had quite the night, huh?”

“We’ve been… talking.” Now was not the time or place for Katherine to divulge any details to what had just conspired.

“Uh huh.” Sarah looked at the two of them, Rachel obviously drunk and nursing a bleeding hand, and Katherine sitting stiffly by her side. “Rachel, you don’t look so good. Do you want us to walk you home?”

“Leave me alone Jacobs,” Rachel was viciously pressing the stained hankie to her wound as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m fine right here.”

Sarah shook her and reached over to grab Rachel by the hand. Rachel twitched but didn’t pull away away. “Rachel, do you have any other place you can stay to tonight?”

Rachel glared at her through swollen, moist eyes. She bit her lower lip. “Shayna said she’s fine with me bunking with her most nights.”

Sarah nodded firmly. “Good. We can take you there now.”

She stood up, hoisted Rachel up by the crook of her right elbow, and gestured for Katherine to do the same.

“I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind leaving early.” Sarah whispered into her ear as they navigated their way around the bar. Katherine shook her head silently. The fun had ended when she and Sarah had split. Though she felt terrible for the thought, Rachel was the best distraction she could ask for.

They pushed their way through the crowd and down the hallway, nodding to the bouncer as they breached the exit. His eyes followed them through the door as he puffed bilious smoke through his cigar. Katherine caught a huge whiff of it and began to cough violently. Through the streets and up the steps to Shayna’s family apartment the coughing refused to cease, and it was only when they were met at the door by Shayna’s mother, a tired looking woman in a formidable wig, that she managed to catch her breath. She and Sarah spoke to each other in hushed tones as Shayna, after giving Katherine a brief hug, guided Rachel to bed. Katherine tried to make herself as conspicuous as possible, but her throat still had other ideas. She tried to smother another cough, but only managed to turn it into an exaggerated wheeze. Shayna’s mother shot her a confused look, then quickly darted back into her apartment. Katherine’s body seized with anxiety.

“Oh no, did I do something wrong?”

Sarah gave a noncommittal shrug. Katherine slowly began to back away from the door, hoping she would follow suit. “Maybe now would be a good time to…”

Then the woman returned. In her hand was a glass of water.

“Oh. Oh, well, thank you ma'am. Um…” Katherine wracked her brain for the right response. “ _Ah dank_.”

The woman beamed, and Katherine drank deeply.

* * *

“I’m sorry the night had to end like this.”

They were between floors in their own building now, resting on one of the staircases between Sarah’s apartment and hers. Sarah was fanning herself with her hand, and Katherine had inconspicuously unbuttoned the first two fasteners of her second hand shirtwaist. The air hung thick and muggy around them.

“What? Don’t say sorry! It was nice just to get out at all. Thank God you found Rachel, who knows what would’ve happened if she had just stayed there.”

“Why didn’t we didn’t drop her off at her place?”

Sarah sighed and mopped her brow with her own sleeve. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know where she lives. Rachel’s the most secretive person, I know. Even more secretive than you.”

“Me? I’m not secretive.” A pang of guilt throbbed in Katherine’s chest.

“Sorry, secretive was the wrong word. I meant… you keep things close to your chest. Not that that a bad thing, but…” Sarah trailed off and avoided Katherine’s gaze. “I mean, we’ve shared things with each other, but you’ve also met my family. And I’ve never seen your cousin.”

“Bryan’s busy all the time.” A definitely true statement. “And the rest of my family… We don’t talk much anymore. My sister passing made things a lot harder between us. And things were never really all that swell to begin with.”

Sarah leaned in closer to her and stroked her wrist lazily. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Katherine grabbed hold of her fingers and squeezed them gently. “You know your parents probably think we’re Brooklyn.”

Sarah snorted. “They’re dead asleep, they’re not thinking anything right now. They’re probably just relieved to have the room to themselves for once.”

“I don’t envy them. Those rooms are like sweatboxes. Opening the window doesn’t even help.”

“Ever tried sleeping on the roof?”

Katherine let go of Sarah’s fingers abruptly. “I’m sorry, sleeping on the what-?”

Sarah gave a gasp of delight. “Follow me!”

Katherine was once again out of breath as she tried to run as quietly as possible up the staircase. She could feel the fat beads of sweat trail into thin streams as they trickled down her breasts and onto her stomach. She looked over at Sarah and shivered quietly. She felt oddly excited all of a sudden, in spite of herself.

When they arrived at the end of the sixth floor Sarah pulled out one of her hairpins, letting a couple of strands droop lazily by her ear. She fixated the sharp ends into the door’s elderly keyhole, and began to meticulously fiddle around with it. They soon heard a quiet snap, and Sarah pushed open the door with ease. She turned back to Katherine and grinned. “David and I used to come up here all the time when we were kids. Come on!”

A few more steps upwards and Katherine could feel a soft wind blowing against her cheeks. The direct area around her was pitch black. For the second time that night, she blinked a few times to adjust herself to her new surroundings.

“Sarah, this… this is amazing.”

The roof itself was nothing to be awed at; it was a mostly flat surface, with the exception of the water tank and some chimneys in the middle. Not small enough to feel restrictive but not large enough to feel impressive either. But what did stand out was the view. Katherine could see miles out beneath her, buildings and buildings that never seemed to end. The East River peeked out through her periphery, reflecting the full glow of the yellow lights from the city that surrounded it. It was a Van Gogh come to live.

“I knew you’d like it.” Sarah grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the tank. She climbed on the first peg on the side, peered up, then reached her hand down towards Katherine. “Come on, the view here is amazing. You can see the stars sometimes.”

She hopped off and hoisted Katherine up by the waist. Katherine craned her neck up at the sky. It was a hazy grey, with clouds of smog navigating their way from factory to factory. The lights didn’t help matters either, dulling Katherine’s perspective of the sky even further. For a moment she was tempted to appease Sarah and say that she could, in fact, see the night sky. But something stopped her. She’d done enough lying tonight. She’s done enough lying for a lifetime. For once, she wanted one true moment with Sarah. One damn moment where she could truly be herself.

Something pressed into the back of her loose hair. Sarah’s nose. Katherine tried not to react as Sarah rested her forehead on the curve of Katherine’s back, burying her face in her hair. She knew she should say something, or pull away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead she let her rest there, listening to the soft rhythm of her breath against the noise of the streets below.

“So, can you see anything?” Her voice was so hopeful. Katherine bit her lip, trying to find the right way to say no. Words had always come so easy to her, quippy comebacks and sarcastic remarks, but this? Any sense of true sincerity? It was like choking on her own breath. She couldn’t tell her no. She couldn’t lie to her either. So instead, she hopped off the water tower and turned to face Sarah.They were only a few inches apart now, and perfectly eye to eye.

It was then that Katherine leaned forward and kissed her.

It was brief. Hardly a brush against the lips. Katherine instantly pulled back, a harsh buzz permeating through her mind, wondering what had caused her to be that stupid-

Then Sarah leaned in and kissed her back.

There was no more questioning of social niceties.Tongue to mouth, the two girls staggered off the side and crumbled in a heap at the base of the Waterhouse. Katherine could feel Sarah’s teeth, the top curve of her mouth, her bumps of her tongue intertwining with hers. Her arms were locked around her waist, Katherine found herself tracing the ribbons at the back of her corset as the kissing grew more and more aggressive. To test the waters she cupped the bust area over Sarah’s shirtwaist, and when the other girl eagerly leaned in further, Katherine took it as a sign to start unbuttoning it. Sarah gave a barking laugh of excitement, and jabbed her mouth against Katherine’s neck, sucking on it and intermittently giving her small bites. When the first layer came off Katherine began to fumble with the front snaps, her fingers shaking with delight.

“Wait-” Sarah whispered urgently into the darkness. Katherine immediately struck her hand back, worried that she had crossed a boundary in someway. Instead, Sarah roughly pulled her in and started undoing the buttons on her own shirtwaist. Katherine exhaled in relief and excitement.

Everything from there on out was a haze. Her own shirt was now off, and she could feel the soft breeze of the evening flow coolly against her shoulders. She felt vulnerable in the most exciting way possible. Katherine cupped the perfect soft roundness of Sarah’s breast in her hand, tracing over the edge of her light pink nipples. She bit down on one of them, and began feeling her way up Sarah’s leg, stroking past her stockings and coming to her drawers, which she quickly bunched in her hand and pulled downward. Sarah’s moans got breathier and more staled, and when gave a quiet ‘yes’, Katherine found a shaky hand being pressed against her chest, and soon she felt herself on her back.

Sarah needed no encouragement to get started. She ducked down into the mass of her skirts, pulling away at her own drawers. Katherine panted and arched her back. The world grew hazy around her. Images grew fuzzy, losing their shape and dimension. She got hotter and hotter, until a sharp pang hit her right at her core, and she could no longer hide her moans of delight.

She opened her eyes. The world was bright and hazy around them.

“Sarah… look! I can see stars! I can see them! I can-!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments will, and always, give me LIFE.


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